A Solider's Last Stand
by RoseandThorns
Summary: Dean thought he was used to their arguments, used to being ignored and forgotten. But bitter words cut Dean in a way he never expected. Can Sam and John convince Dean to return to them? Or is he lost to them forever? NOT A DEATH-FIC!NO ONE DIES!
1. Crossfire

Hello everyone. This is my first Supernatural fanfiction!

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

Dean: 20

Sam: 16

...

A soldier's last stand

Crossfire.

Dean

_I don't ask for much..._

_...Too live...Too grow old...Too not die alone..._

_No...I ask for a family who I know loves me...but...I get this!_

I propped myself up on my elbows, trying to tune out the voices I could hear. The television was on as loud as I dared to have it and yet it did nothing. The age old, bitter family feud raged, slowly drilling resentment into me. I knew my place, the silent observer until things got to much. The only one unable to scream about my feelings. The whispered shadow, the fated weapon...The forgotten son.

I curled my fingers around the beer can I clasped. It groaned and creaked as I bent it into a new shape. The liquid sloshed around in it, spilling through the opening and suddenly I had no real want for it. It became the victim of my anger, caught in my grasp unable to defend itself or speak up. When the liquid stained my jeans, I sighed and lowered it to the table before me. I stretched out, placing my feet on the coffee table, I'd lost my concentration and suddenly the program had no meaning. The sound of something hitting the wooden table behind me jerked me to attention. I span round, Dad was on his feet, nostrils flaring and eyes burning with rage. Sam was leaning causally in his chair, eyes alert and focused on Dad. There was arrogance and annoyance plastered on his face. A part of me was suddenly angry because they didn't understand how it made me feel. How small and pathetic I became.

"Damn it, Sam! Can't you do as I say this once?" Dad growled.

Sam sat before him, defiant rebellion blazing from him. "I'm not a robot, dad! Why can't you just listen to me?"

"Because what you're saying doesn't make sense! We have another hunt and you want to stay and study?"

"Until term ends. One more week. Please, dad, this once, please!"

"No, Sam! We have a lead on the Demon!"

I saw something shift in Sam's eyes, revenge and hope. Mum's death had left bloody, insanity filled vengeance in it's wake. I'd heard this conversation before, we got close to it and the demon danced away from us. Always tantalisingly out of reach. Sam was starting to cave, his lust for death overriding his desire to learn. I saw Dad open his mouth and knew that his next words would shatter any chance of a truce.

"God, Sam. Why can't you be more like Dean?"

Bitter disappointment bubbled in me, rage flowed around my body, driving fire into my veins. I am just a weapon, against the nightmares we hunt, against Sam, against Dad. I'm only remembered to be used.

I didn't need to look at Sam to know his reaction. I didn't need to hear him speak to know his words. I wished he wouldn't react, that he wouldn't rise to meet Dad. But he would. He always did.

"Because I'm not 'Daddy's perfect Solider!' I have my own mind!"

"Sammy..." I tried to stop his words, calm his anger before he stole away my breath. He didn't listen. He never would

"What good is that to me?" Dad spat "I need a son who can follow orders!"

"Following your orders is what gets us hurt every time. Gets Dean hurt!"

"It's not my fault if Dean gets sloppy. Or you for that matter!"

"Don't you dare call us 'sloppy'. We're your sons, you're supposed to look after us!"

"I can be a father and still teach you to hunt."

_...It's not supposed to go like this..._

_Am I really asking so much?_

_._

_._

_._

_I'M HERE! YOUR SON! YOUR BROTHER! WHY CAN'T YOU SEE ME? WHAT DID I DO THAT WAS SO WRONG?_

_...Why do you keep ignoring me?...Am I not screaming loud enough?_

"I don't want to be Dean! Why would I want to be him? We don't need three clones in this family!"

I lurched to my feet, sending the coffee table onto its side. The bang resounded through my head. There was just blind, bitter rage burning through me. I didn't want to acknowledge how much Sam's words had just cut me. My hands were clenched into fists, my body shaking with fury.

"Dean..." Sam's horrified voice reached me and I glared at him. "Dean...please..."

_Why do you only remember me after you've hurt me? Why can't you remember me before?_

"Son, calm down."

Dad's voice only caused the fury to writhe inside me, spitting insults that leapt to my tongue before I remembered to hold them back. I turned and stalked for the door.

"DEAN! Come back!" Dad ordered.

For the first time in my life, I walked away from him.

By the time I stumbled back into the motel room, alcohol had numbed my body and soothed my frazzled emotions. I padded nosily across the room, colliding with the table and knocking a few books off it. I frowned at them but made no attempt to pick them up. I stood in the middle of the room, suddenly unsure. Swallowing, I backed toward the door, wanting to run and knowing I could. The reality of the fact hit me hard and sobered my mind. Outside these wall, I could be anything. I could walk away from Sam and Dad. I opened the door, my mind longed for a new start but my body was unresponsive. I stood, frozen in the doorway with my hand clasped around the handle. The cold air bit into me and the stars shone, blazing above me.

_Mum's up there somewhere. It's her I want to make proud._

_...Would she hate me if I walked away from Sammy?..._

_Would I hate myself?_

I lost track of time, I didn't know how long I stood there, lost in thoughts and buried dreams. Finally I moved, pushing forward and out into the cold. I wandered over to the Impala, my hand caressed the glossy body. Sighing, I clambered up onto the boot and stared into the dark sky. The moon hung in the blackness of the night and casted an eerie glow around me.

_Mum...it's Dean. It been a while since I last spoke to you, sorry. Things have been...they've been busy. Sammy's OK, I look after him the best I can. You know that, right? And Dad...well...he's Dad, enough said. Me? I'm fine...I have to be. I can't be anything less. I hope you're happy up there. You're with Grandma and Grandpa. _

_The thing is, mum. They act like they can't see me. Dad and Sam, I mean. They argue and it drags me down. I think...I hate them...sometimes. That's wrong isn't it? I nearly ran from them, actually that's why I'm lying on my car. Trying to find the courage. They'd kill each other without me but maybe they deserve that. No...I don't want them to die. I want them to treat me right. But what's right? Like you did once? _

_I just don't know anymore. _

_Would they miss me if I did leave? I doubt they'd even notice. I..._

_I'm sorry, mum. This isn't your problem. Don't worry, I'll make it work. _

_I love you. Bye._

It was a long time before I moved again. I slid off the car and turned back to the motel. I knew I couldn't leave them, not yet. The thought was there and the urge was strong but for now it was overpowered. I couldn't raise my head, my eyes trained to the dirt beneath my feet. The door swung soundlessly open and my footfalls were light against the carpet. I stripped to my boxers, dropping clothes at my feet and not caring where they landed.

"Dean?" I turned to Sam in surprise. He wasn't awake, not properly, hovering on the edge of oblivion.

"Yeah, it's me, Sammy. Go back to sleep."

"Sorry, Dean. Didn't mean it."

"Shh." I pulled his cover up to his chin. "I know kiddo. Go to sleep."

He stilled, a smile playing on his lips. I slipped in between my own scratchy sheets, frowning at the texture. Sleep tugged on my conscious, pulling me down with it into it's slumber. But before I fell completely under its spell, I thought I saw Dad's eyes, fixed on me, shinning in the moonlight.

"Wake up, Dean! C'mon!" Sam's bright voice woke me.

I swatted at him and rolled over. "Go away. Sleeping."

"Not anymore you're not. Get up!"

"Five more minutes."

"You said that five minutes ago."

"And I'll say it in another five. Let me sleep."

"Get up, Dean. Please."

"You're begging to get me up? Seriously?"

"Will it work?"

"What's for breakfast?"

"Cereal."

"Nope! No way. Not getting up. Good night, Sammy. Wake me when you have real food." I pulled the pillow over my head, which didn't mute Sam's voice.

"Real mature, Dean. Dad says we're going to Bobby's."

"Bobby's? Why?"

"Because he needs our help on a hunt." Dad answered, appearing on my left side.

Frowning I sat up and looked at him. "What about The Demon? I thought you had a lead."

"It was false. C'mon, Dean. We'll stop for a burger."

"Awesome!"

We never did stop for that burger. Sam and Dad found it much more appealing to scream at each other while on the highway. Dad's knuckles were clamped around the steering wheel so tightly that they were turning white. I could see them shaking. Sat behind him, Sam's arms waved dramatically about his eyes blazing injustice and war. I sank deeper into the seat and wished for change.

"This isn't music, Dad! It's a racket!"

_For Christ sake. You're arguing about music?_

"I'm not listening to your stuff Sam. My car. My music."

"It's Dean's car!"

"Dean likes this music. It's his favourite track!"

"Guys...I'm sitting right here..."

"You brainwashed him! He doesn't know what he likes!"

"He's welcome to develop a personal choice any day!"

"Guys!"

"He wouldn't know how too! You've moulded him since the age of four! Turn the darn music off."

"NO!"

I reached out, ejecting the tape and throwing it to the floor. In the stunned silence that followed, I switched on the radio. I didn't care what was playing, I just wanted them to shut up.

"DEAN!" Two furious voices screeched.

"Sam doesn't want to listen to 'Metallica' and you don't want to listen to the 'Backstreet boys'. I don't want to listen to you argue, so we're listening to this. End off." Sam fell silent, shock playing on his features. Dad was ready to retort, I saw words building on his tongue. I cut him off. "My car. My music. Live with it."

We spent the next hour in silence. Sam sulking like a child, Dad staring out into the distance with cold fury in his eyes. I tried to pretend that I wasn't hurting. That some vital part of me wasn't broken. That I really could continue to bleed in silence.

_...Notice me..._

_Walk away, Dean...just walk away..._

Bobby's was the only place I could ever really consider home. The scrap yard of cars is a place I can escape. A place where I can get lost. Sometime, they can't find me. Bobby's features were schooled, something hidden behind his welcoming face. He moved toward us and the floorboards groaned. His eyes snapped to my face and something clouded his eyes. He placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. I blinked at him in surprise but his gaze was on Dad. His eyes shone with emotions I couldn't understand.

"Boys. John."

"Bobby." Dad acknowledged.

"Hey, Bobby!" Sam greeted.

Bobby smiled, watching Sam bound into the house. He disappeared from sight and Dad turned to me.

"Get our bags from the car Dean."

"What? Oh, yeah. Sure."

_Daddy's perfect solider. _

_...He'd fold in half without you..._

_Just this once...don't do it..._

I stood in front of the Impala, the bags packed into the boot. There was nothing in me that reacted to Dad's order. I studied the material in which our belongings were kept. They were brown and fraying, a decade old. Identical. Slamming the boot shut, I prowled into the yard, slipping in between the rusting cars. Eventually I found myself on the other side off the yard, the house a speck in the distance. I lowered myself to the dirt, leaning against the wrecked shell of a car.

How long had I been going through the motions?

Existing but never really living?

I could never afford fun. Never had the opportunity to be a kid. Fire and death snatched my childhood away from me and Dad made sure it stayed gone. He didn't have to get hooked on this. He didn't have to become a hunter.

Why use my life for his? Why?

They don't see what they do to me. How I'm frozen inside with turmoil and hate trapped. I know I can't get out of this life. But it doesn't mean I don't want to try. Sam isn't the only one with dreams.

Sammy's going places. He'll be amazing.

But he'll leave me behind and Dad can't stick around forever.

I'll get my chance at life then. But it'll be tainted by hurt.

I have to leave before they do...it's the only way...

...Sammy...

Can I leave him behind? My baby brother? He's not so little anymore. He's big enough to insult Dad and drag me through the darkness.

I wish they'd stop using me against each other. I wish they'd see me for who I am. Not just a weapon.

I pounded my fist into the ground, wincing when the skin split and blood gushed from the jagged wounds. Bones creaked and muscles leaped into spasms. But I didn't care. I washed the crimson liquid snake down my skin, leaving stains behind it. It dripped onto the ground, turning the soil red. Finally, I wiped the blood away and straightened out the limb. It hurt and protested movement but I shut it out and let it sink into my subconscious.

I heaved myself back to my feet and headed toward the Impala. The bags hadn't been moved, no one had tried to help. Wordlessly, I picked them up, slinging one over each shoulder and holding the third. Three heads shot up when I appeared in the door. I thought I saw relief and concern before anger replaced it.

"Where have you been?" Dad demanded.

I said nothing, just placed the bags on the couch and moved to the fridge. There was nothing that I wanted but it was an excuse to not look behind me at the men crowded around a small table.

"I asked you a question Dean."

"Getting the bags like you told me too."

"That was twenty minutes ago. What happened?"

"Got abducted by aliens. Nasty creatures."

"Dean..."

Suddenly someone was holding my hand. Surprised I looked around, Sam had found my injured hand. His fingertips soothing ripped skin, wiping away the blood that still oozed out. When he finally looked up at me, concern was written in expressive eyes. I struggled to keep his gaze.

"What happened to your hand, Dean?"

"I told you. Alien's are nasty."

"Please, tell me Dean."

"I...must've tripped on something. I fell."

"It took you twenty minutes to get back up?"

"Took me a long time to fall. Anyway, I'm fine. I'll put the bags in our rooms. Same as usual, Bobby?"

"Course boy."

I hastily picked up the bags and hurried from the room. I fled up the stairs, not caring that they could hear my movements. I threw dad's bag into his room, hearing something bounce and praying nothing broke. I chucked Sam's bag onto his bed and dropped mine to the bed. Sam came up wordlessly behind me and took my ruined hand again. He didn't speak to me as he lead me to the bathroom and let the water run onto my knuckle. I hissed and he held my wrist tighter. The water ran red, I glanced at Sam. He met mine with suspicion but something that could be described as love played in their depth. He smoothed a fresh bandage over my skin.

"Dean. You know I didn't mean what I said. I like you the way you are."

"Dude, that sounds wrong. And isn't that from a song?"

"I'm being serious, Dean. You're ten times better than Dad. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Get over yourself, Sammy. Nothing hurts me."

Something trickled into his eyes, a burst of emotional pain seemed to rise from inside him. He reached forward and put his arms around my neck. Woodenly, I did the same, unsure of where to put my arms and how much pressure to put on his body.

_I haven't been hugged in years...I'd forgotten what it felt like..._

He didn't let go, even when I let my arms fall to my sides.

"Sammy? You mind letting go?"

He pulled back, but the agony was still written on his face. I wanted to wipe it away but I didn't know how.

"You look tired, Dean. You should go to sleep." Sam mumbled. I nodded mutely, confusion tugging at my exhausted mind. "I'll tell Dad to save you some food."

"OK." He stood and started to walk out the door. "Sammy, thanks."

He nodded. "Anytime, Dean."

_-Start of dream-_

"_Ring around the roses, a pocket full of posies. Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down! Ring around the roses, a pocket full of posies. Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down. Ring around the roses, a pocket full of posies. Ashes, Ashes. WE. ALL. !"_

_Dark. So dark. I've never known darkness like this. I can't breathe. Oh, God. _

"_Dad? Sammy? Get me out of here!"_

_I throw my arms around, striking out at darkness and hitting wood. The wood surrounds me, encasing me...entombing me..._

_I don't understand._

"_Hush, little baby don't you cry. Momma's gonna by you a mocking bird. If that mocking bird don't sing, momma's gonna by you a diamond ring"_

"_Hello? Can you hear me? Let me out!"_

"_Let you out? Why would I do that?" The voice was female, spitting poison words at me. I shuddered at her. _

"_Because it's not nice to keep me here."_

"_But I get sooooo lonely here. Now I have you. We'll play together forever."_

"_My dad'll come."_

_She laughed. Nails dragged across the wood above me, sawdust fell. It slipped into my mouth and coated my tongue. I coughed and she laughed again. _

"_Daddy isn't coming. Daddy doesn't care. He gave me to you."_

"_You're lying!"_

"_Am not. Daddy doesn't love Dean. Sammy left him too. All alone."_

"_NO!"_

"_They argued and I stole you away. Argue. Argue. I took you and they didn't even know. Daddy won't come to save you. Sammy doesn't want his brother around anymore. Why do you think they argue? Because they can't face the pain off you."_

"_SHUT UP!"_

"_Poor boy. So brave. You've been so brave. But now its time to sleep. Isn't it lucky. You're already in a coffin. Lucky boy. Brave boy. No more pain."_

_I couldn't breathe, everything closed in around me. I thrashed, screaming words I didn't understand. My fists kept hitting solid wood. Panic was forcing every thought from me. _

"_LET ME OUT! SAM! DAD! SAMMY!" _

"_Humpty dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty dumpty had a great fall. All of the king's horses and all of his men, couldn't put Humpty together again."_

_-End dream scene-_

"DEAN! DEAN WAKE UP, MAN!"

I threw myself away from the voice, away from the arms that reached for me. Confusion and fear burned through me, panic still lingered in my mind. I blinked up at the figures around me, unable to see faces in the darkness.

Darkness...

I lurched for the light, snapping it on and filling the room with an artificial glow. Sam's face was hovering anxiously near me, his hands still reaching out. Behind him, I saw Dad's anxious face and Bobby's frantic one. I'd woken them up, their hair was mussed and their eyes bleary. The covers from Sam's bed had been flung to the floor.

"Are you all right, Dean?" Sam's gentle voice asked.

"I-I'm fine. Just a-a...nightmare. Nothing too it."

"You were screaming pretty loud, Dean. Woke us all up." Dad commented.

"I've realised. Sorry sir, won't happen again."

"Not your fault Dean."

I nodded, rubbing my hands over my eyes. Sam's hand touched my ankle, grounding me to reality, keeping the monsters at bay but no fighting off the emptiness inside my chest. I forced a smile to weary lips.

"I think I'm going back to sleep now. Night everyone."

"Ok. Night son." Dad left, without a backwards glance.

"Try not to have any nightmares." Bobby ordered as e followed Dad out.

Sam hung around me, fear flashing through his eyes. I turned to him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder.

"I'm all right, Sammy. Really."

"Don't do that again, Dean. I know you're not OK."

I could only drop my gaze to the bed.

...

Ta-duh?

Is it liked or hated?


	2. When will I be right?

Hello everyone! Thank you for your lovely reviews!

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

*Anyone who doesn't know a 'boot' is a 'trunk'. I thought it would be silly to change it to trunk as I used boot in the previous chapter.

This chapter won't be as long as the first. In fact I doubt any chapters will be as long as the first. I hope you don't mind.

...

A Soldier's Last Stand

When will I be right?

John

_I never wanted this life for my boys._

_Hell, I didn't want it for myself. But things happen and this is my life now...This life is my sons'..._

I'm losing him.

We're all losing him. And I don't know how to stop it. Something broke in me, the night Mary died and I haven't loved right since. I'm pushing Dean away, alienating him. I can see myself doing it but there's nothing I can do.

I studied Dean earlier, watched his features, saw how they changed. He reigned his emotions in, clamping down on them and locking down. He's always done it, found some corner of his mind to hide away in. Whenever he retreats there, we can never reach him. He has to come back himself. Sometimes I fear he won't. But I think, for the first time, that protection is failing him and he starting to feel again.

He hovered in the motel doorway earlier. Silhouetted by moonlight, he looked the perfect hunter. But he should always be my son. He looked over his shoulder, back at Sammy, when he gaze rested on me there was anger in it. His anger had never been directed at me, I doubt even Sammy's experienced it. It shocked me, sending a tremble around my body. But it dimmed and he turned away. I panicked when he moved, crossing the threshold in a single stride and disappeared into the night.

_No! Dean!...Come back!...Please...!_

I scrambled of the bed, sending blankets flying. I hurried to the door, wrenching it open and staring out into darkness. When I got there, I found Dean lying on the boot*, his eyes were fixed on the stars over head. I've found him like this a few times, under the stars, always in the dead off night. I'm not supposed to know, I shouldn't be here. But I can't help but watch.

_Oh, Mary...he's not all right, is he? Me and Sammy messed up. We didn't mean to upset him, I didn't realise it would. Shows how much I know him. I am trying, Mary, I'm trying so hard. Please believe me. _

_Mary, does he talk to you? Does he tell you how he feels? I hope he does. Because I know he can't come to me and he won't burden Sam. _

_Please, Mary, tell me what to do. How to help him. He's trying to run, he wants to but something keeps him with us. What is it? Tell me and I'll make it stronger! We can't lose him. Sam can't be without his big brother and I can't be without my son. _

_...Mary...I'm sorry..._

_I love you._

I picked up the phone and called the one other person I trusted.

"What do ya want?"

"It's John Winchester, Bobby."

"What can I do for you?"

"We need to come to your place. OK?"

"Sure. Uh, why?"

"Family drama."

"What?"

"Dean."

I didn't say anymore, just hung up. Sam stirred and an owl hooted but Dean stayed exactly where he was.

It was another hour before Dean stirred. I sat in the open door and watched him. The cold night air had bit into me, sending goose bumps up my arms. When he moved and rolled off the car, I darted inside and fell into bed. Minutes later he appeared, wary eyes scanned the darkness before he shed down to his boxers. Sam stirred and Dean jerked, guilt flooding onto his face.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy, it's me. Go back to sleep."

"Sorry, Dean. Didn't mean it."

"Shh." He tucked Sam in again, pulling the cover under his chin and smoothing it out. "I know, kiddo. Go to sleep."

He started to drift as soon as his head hit the pillow. Moonlight flowed through the curtain and his sleepy gaze caught mine. But dreams called to him and he succumbed to it.

I thought he'd be OK. I really did.

But then he changed the music.

He nearly trampled the tape under his foot, the music suddenly filling the car was wrong. It wasn't my son's. Sam was silent in the back seat, he eyes met mine in the mirror. There was shock and undiluted concern in his, I wondered if the same was in mine. I opened my eyes to speak to Dean, to scold him before asking about his welfare. But he beat me too it.

"My car. My music. Live with it."

He turned away, staring out of the window. But I'd seen it. That flash of anger and the punch of heartbreak. Our thoughtless words had put those emotions back in Dean. I couldn't tell Dean I was sorry, that I'd never do it again. Because the words would never come and for that reason, I could never truly be sorry. I saw Sam reach a hesitant hand toward Dean's bowed head. It hovered just behind him, if Dean knew he never said. Sam's hand was there for over five minutes before he pulled it back and sighed quietly.

Dean sank further into his seat and further away from us.

_Mary...Mary please..._

"Dad? Something's wrong with Dean."

Sam had appeared in the small kitchen as I stood with Bobby. I turned to him, concerned by the hesitant fear in his eyes. I put the coffee mug down on the counter.

"Is he hurt?"

"I don't mean physically. I mean up here." He tapped his temple " Something's wrong."

"You think he's sick?" Bobby asked.

I stiffened at the thought. Surely, that couldn't be what was wrong was Dean. I turned to look at Bobby, frantic fear in my eyes. Sam was suddenly stricken, his face paling, his head shaking rapidly.

"No, no, no, no. I mean he's hiding things. And he's lying. He's never lied to me before." I nodded, shakily. I had noticed Dean's lying. About what he feels, where he's going. And what he does. "And you remember the tape?"

I sighed. "I do, Sammy."

"What happened about the tape?" Bobby's concern was beginning to show

"Dean threw the 'Metallica' tape on the floor when we were driving up here. Ripped it out of the player and threw it to the floor."

"He put the radio on instead." Sam added

Bobby frowned. "Why would he do that?"

"Because we argued. Me and Sam."

"Its my fault, isn't it Dad? Because I said all those horrible things."

"No, Sammy. It's mine. I should have seen this coming. He's always been like this."

"What did you say to Dean, Sam?"

"I called him a clone and practically said he doesn't have a personality."

"Oh."

"But I know that's not true! Off course he has a personality. He's a flirt, he's funny and stupidly selfless. My big brother. He isn't Dad!"

"That's right, Sam. Have you told him?" He nodded wildly, tousled hair whipping around. "And what happened?"

Sam looked down. "He told me nothing hurt him, but his face said different. I hugged him..."

I raised his head up "And then what?"

"He didn't know what to do. I could tell, he didn't know how to react."

I didn't expect the guilt to hit me as hard as it did. Sam's face was so horribly heartbroken, he was clutching Dean's jacket tightly. Bobby was furious, I could see his hands shaking.

"I'm going to see Dean." Sam declared and he hurried away.

He left silence behind him, the house creaked.

"John-."

"Don't, Bobby. Dean's the reason we're here." Bobby pulled a chair out and after sitting in it gestured for me to continue. I sighed. "He...Look, I don't know what to do. I think I know what's wrong but I can't help him."

"Why are you really here, John? What else happened?"

"Dean tried to runaway last night."

"He what?"

"He didn't obviously but he wanted to. I really thought he was going to. That's why we're here. So you can help me stop him."

"John...I..."

"Please, Bobby! Can you imagine what it would do to Sam? To wake up one morning and find Dean gone?"

Bobby nodded and I felt myself relax.

_Dean...don't give up on us..._

I stood in the darkness of my boys' room. Clasped in Dean's hand under his pillow was the frequently used knife. This man used to be my baby. Innocent, a child, believing monster's were only in the movies. But he lost it. It was ripped away from him one night in flames and blood. The day I thrust Sammy into his arms. I can count on one hand the amount of time I've held him since that night.

Sammy is innocent, everything about him is. Dean has fought to keep him like that. His baby brother. I've watched him when they fight, Dean has eyes everywhere. He's not supposed to be a hunter.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

They would never hear me, never know my guilt or my shame. Dean stirred in his sleep, tossing his body across the bed. I prayed that another nightmare wouldn't awaken him. With a whimper, he stilled. I smoothed his sheets out and smiled slightly. I turned to Sammy, tucking his feet back under the sheet. His forehead wrinkled and he mumbled.

"Shh, Sam. Go back to sleep."

And he did.

Something tells me this won't be enough. That something in Dean is already too broken for me to start fixing now.

"Dad, Sammy, Bobby. I need you to listen to me and understand. I'm not doing this to upset you. I'm really not. This is something I need to do. For a little while."

No...


	3. Desperation's choice

Hello everyone! Thank you for your lovely reviews.

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand

Desperation's choice.

Dean.

_I don't believe in happy endings. I don't even believe in happy beginnings. I don't believe in fate or destiny. _

_I have to make my life my own. _

_Sometimes, I wonder how long I can keep living in death's shadow. How long can I continue to fight dad's crusade, when the memories of my mother grow dimmer with each passing day? _

_Sometimes...I wonder how long it'll be until I become a lie. Until, all I become is a hunter, a flirt someone lost to a war. One day, all I'll be...are lies and darkness..._

_...No...that's all I am...I'm already there..._

_Everyday another part of me slips away. _

_SO WHY CAN'T THEY NOTICE? _

"Dad, Sammy, Bobby. I need you to listen to me and understand. I'm not doing this to upset you. I'm really not. This is something I need to do. For a little while."

I saw their faces shift, change into something I couldn't understand. Bobby's hands started playing with the broken gun on the table, clicking together pieces without really looking. Sam leant across the table, his hand inching toward me, something close to terror in his eyes. And dad...his eyes never left mine, his face stoic and tensed. I hovered at the table edge, trying to meet the gaze of the men around the table. Sam's eyes met mine, filled with fear and betrayal he didn't understand, I looked away in guilt. I could hear Dad's heavy breathing and Bobby's gun locking together but no one acknowledge my words.

"What is it you need to do, Dean?" Bobby finally asked

"I..uh..."

With the presence of my family surrounding me, I suddenly lost my confidence. Feeling foolish, my gaze dropped and my hands found my pockets.

"You know what? It doesn't matter. Urm...I think I'll go and fix the Impala."

I started to back out the door, cursing myself for my weakness. There is a supernatural being that I tremble before, nothing that invades my dreams, they can't hurt me. But my dad...Sammy...they can. There's a place inside me that only family can destroy. I knew that I feared what my family could do to me.

"Dean, stop." Sam instructed. Hesitantly I turned back to him, a cocky mask sliding into place. "Tell me what you want, Dean. It must be important."

"Nah, it's all right."

"Dean!"

"What?"

"This is something you obviously want but you won't tell us! Why ever not?"

"'Cause its not important, that's why. I'll be back later."

"Dean, come back, NOW!" Dad commanded, a few weeks ago that voice would have made me do anything. I'd have shot anything, lied, stolen...anything he wanted. But today I turned away and walked toward the door. "D-DEAN!" He was shocked, outraged and something else I couldn't work out.

I paid him no attention and the door slammed shut between us.

_How long can you function without your solider, dad?_

_Are you sure you can keep the monsters away without your big brother, Sammy?_

I ended up in some run down bar in the next town. The music's pulse banged against my skull, the beat to lively for my mood but I craved the numbness the alcohol could bring. I dropped into an empty bar stool and mindlessly ordered the first thing that came to mind. I didn't know what the name was, I barely tasted the liquid as I swallowed it.

"More." Was all I said as I pushed it back to the barkeeper.

He frowned but poured more of the blue liquid into the glass. "Rough dad, kid?"

"Rough life!" I spat "Leave the bottle."

His shook his head and disappeared to the other end of the bar. I'm not a bad person. I don't kill for fun, I only kill to protect what I have. All I've ever killed are soulless monsters, things that used to have humanity but lost it. I only steal to survive and I don't take much, just enough. I've been taught to lie, I'm based on a lie. Dean Winchester IS a lie. I didn't chose this life for myself. Dad choose it for me, for Sammy. I'm beginning to realise...I don't want it anymore...

...Does that mean I'm betraying my family?...

"Hey, gorgeous! You look lonely, can I join you?" I looked at the female sitting beside me. She wasn't overly attractive, her nose was a bit too long and her eyes too close together but I smiled at her. Her hair was dyed blonde, dark roots showing, a little too much make-up. On any other day I'd pass her up but today I didn't.

"Sure. Can I get you a drink?"

"Tequila."

I nodded to the man behind the bar, he shot me a nervous glance but did as I asked. The blonde turned to me, her eyes were bright blue, she flashed me a smile.

"What's your name, hon?"

"Dean. You?"

"Linda."

It was strange. The longer I sat beside her, the stronger the urge to run became. I didn't want to talk. I didn't care who she was. She rested her hand on my arm, turning me back to her. Her tongue danced along her lips and her chest was suddenly brushing against me. I shrugged away from her and rose unsteadily to my feet. She followed me with her eyes, anger seeping into them.

"Sorry, baby. I gotta pick up my little brother."

"At this time off night? It's one in the morning."

I winced, knowing my dad's anger and Sam's concern would find me soon. "Late night party. You know kids."

"Can't you stay a little longer?" She lopped her arms around my neck, holding me against her.

I struggled, before pushing her forcefully away. "I said no!"

"Linda? Baby what are you doing?"

A tall, red headed man was suddenly hovering beside Linda. She sniffled and turned to him, I could already see the tears on her face. An exasperated sigh left me.

"Oh, Mattie! He's such a bully!" She pointed at me, mascara smudged pathetically down her cheeks. I frowned, tensing my body. "He tried to kiss me! I was only going to tell him he dropped his phone!"

"Lady, my phone's been in my pocket this whole time."

"I just gave it to you, you wicked man! Oh, Mattie! Look how much he's had to drink!" With a flick of her hand she showed the empty bottle and the half drunk glass of tequila.

"Yeah, sure. I'm going home!" I declared and shoved past them.

Someone snagged my shirt collar, jerking me to a stop. I looked over my shoulder, rage beginning to build in me.

"Apologise to her!" Mattie ordered.

I pulled away from him, straightening out my shirt. "Not likely. I haven't done anything wrong. She's a slut."

"WHAT?" Suddenly Mattie's face was red, his hands were trembling by his sides. I laughed and waited for the punch I knew would come.

He swung his fists without knowledge or ability. He was a mindless thug, that put his power into punches and didn't know how to block. I ducked his fist and sunk mine into his stomach. The air left his body in a rush. He tried to strike back, but I was faster and my hand connected with his face. He howled and clutched his nose, my knuckles split again. He swung a leg at my knees, I went to dodge but someone got in my way and he took me down. His hands found my face and I felt my lip tear. Blood dripped from his face onto mine, his body was sweaty and his breath stank of alcohol and cigarettes. I gagged and shoved his body off me. I was straddling him, his drunk body trapped beneath mine. During the fight, I had lost a sense of humanity, I'd forgotten how to be human. My fists thundered against his face. He screamed and begged beneath me, trying to fend off my hands but I just battered him away. Again and again my knuckles met flesh, made blood spill and bones creak. The anger that I unleashed on the man below me had nothing to do with him. This was an unfair fight for reasons I didn't quite understand. My hands ached, bones groaned and protested. I brought my hands down on his chest, there was a crack and he crumpled to the floor. I jerked up, suddenly feeling to enclosed, knowing I had made a mistake. Linda's face was horrified, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. I looked at the bloody body of Mattie. His face was a mess of blood and tears. I had split his lip, broken his nose and probaly fractured his jaw. When someone stepped toward me, I fled.

I could sense Dad's anger before I opened the door. I could hear him prowling, snarling inside the kitchen. Sam's soothing voice floated toward me occasionally, Bobby's voice danced with theirs. I hadn't found the time to wash away the blood. I hadn't managed to fight away the alcohol in my system. I knew the wrath I faced and knew that I didn't care. I pushed open the door, dumping my coat on the table and passing the family gathered in the kitchen.

"It's two in the morning, Dean. Where have you been?" Dad's voice was enraged. But shouldn't he have been concerned? Isn't that what father's are supposed to be?

"Out. At a bar."

"Are you drunk?"

"Yup."

"God damn it, Dean. You have to be smarter than that."

"Maybe next time."

I'd nearly made it to the door. I was nearly in the living room. All I wanted to do was wash away the blood, fix my lip and my hand. I wanted to forget everything, if only for a night.

"You've been in a fight, Dean." Sam's voice was disappointed, disapproving. Dad stiffened and I cringed.

"I haven't."

"So why are you bleeding?"

"I fell over."

"You said that last time, Dean. What really happened?" Bobby's voice was tired, annoyed. Guilt gnawed on my insides.

"He started on me. So I hit him back."

"Did you kill him?" Dad's voice didn't change.

I turned to him, hurt colouring my face. He thought I was capable of that. "I'm not a murderer! I'm not! I stopped it before it went too far! How can you think that off me?"

_I'm NOT a monster! _

_...YOU'RE the monster!..._

I felt unbelievably betrayed. Hurt was flooding through my veins and anger was pulsing against my brain. Something changed in Dad's expression, he looked suddenly fearful.

"All right, Dean. I'm sorry. Let me help you with your hand."

He stepped toward me but I drew back. "NO! I can do it. Goodnight!"

I rushed away from everyone before I could be stopped.

I sat on the toilet seat, my hand wrapped in a bloodstained towel. My head was bowed; the floor had suddenly fascinated my mind. I was a void, my emotions numbed into slumber. I heard the bathroom door creak open and something clatter into the sink.

"Dean. Can I look at your hand?"

"Sammy."

"Yeah, Dean. Can I see?"

I held out my hand, he unwrapped the bandaged, clicking his tongue at the ruined hand. He ran a damp cloth over the joints.

"This is the second time in two days I've done this. Please stop doing whatever you're doing that gets you hurt."

"Sure. Why not?"

"Sammy?"

"What?"

"Am I a monster?"

He looked up at me, shock on his face. "A monster? You?" I nodded. "God no! You aren't a monster, Dean."

"So what am I?"

"My brother."

He let go of my hand, it was clean, just scratched and bruised. I frowned at it. Sam laughed quietly, I looked up at him.

"Sorry. Now, hold still. I need to clean the blood off your lip."

"Right."

He was careful, the cloth dusting against my ripped lip. I hissed when he pressed to hard but eventually he sat back.

"Done!" He exclaimed with a smile.

I couldn't find a smile, it was like I'd forgotten how. Sam frowned and leant forward, his arms wrapping around my shoulders. I stiffened beneath him but he held on.

"It'll be all right, Dean. Whatever's wrong will be OK. You have to let us help you."

I threw my arms around him and held him tight against me.

_No it won't...As long as I stay here, it'll never be all right..._


	4. Time to kiss the past goodbye

Hello everyone! Thank you for your lovely reviews, they really do brighten my day. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

Time to kiss the past goodbye.

Dean

_It would always come to this. Always._

_I need to walk away. Too say goodbye and find myself. Too see what else I could be. _

_My chained wings need to be freed and I need to reach the sky. _

_There comes a time in everyone's life when they have to say farewell._

"Can't you see what you're doing to him?" Sam screamed, his eyes blazing dangerously, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Of course I do, Sam! You honestly think I wouldn't notice my son?" Dad spat back, a beer bottle clasped in his shaking hands.

"So why won't you talk to him?"

"It's Dean, Sam. He's too stubborn to let me talk to him. Besides what would I say to him?"

"How about 'I love you, Dean.'?"

Dad's voice caught in his throat and he dropped his gaze away from Sam. He couldn't say it. He'd never say it. Something wept inside me, cursing bitterly the man who was once my father. I sat on the stairs, concealed by shadows, my shaking hands gripping the banister rails.

_Say it, just once..._

"You can't say it, can you? Is it a wonder he's acting like he is?"

"Well, I haven't heard you say it for a while. And anyway he knows...how I feel..."

"Of course I tell him. Do you honestly think Dean understands how you act around him? You think he's just accepted it without complaint?"

"I don't know all right, Sam? I thought he was smart enough to understand but lately I wonder why I thought that."

_Can you hear yourselves? So sure the other person has wronged me but refusing to look in the mirror? Can't you face what you've done to me without screaming at each other? _

"Don't talk like that. You need to talk to him, Dad."

"Oh, and you don't?"

"I don't. Dean knows I love him."

"Sam-."

"STOP IT BOTH OF YOU!" Bobby's voice silenced them, shock playing on their faces. "Thank you. In my opinion, you BOTH need to talk to him."

"Words are just words, Bobby. They don't mean anything." Dad commented softly, his eyes slipping to the floor again.

"Something tells me they mean a lot to Dean."

"How do you know?" Sam's innocent voice asked. "He never says. He's got that stupid wall around him."

"I know, Sam. Because if you two had actually looked you would have seen Dean listening to your every word."

Bobby glanced over to me, Sam and Dad followed his gaze. I shrank back, feeling like a disobedient child. If I didn't acknowledge their guilty eyes, I could pretend that they loved me. I could live a lie that told me I was wanted.

"Dean?" Sam was suddenly on the foot of the stairs, his eyes oddly fearful. I didn't understand why, I couldn't see the threat. "Have you been there the whole time?"

I nodded, crawling backward, up the stairs and away from him. Sam's fear suddenly turned to horror at my actions. His teary eyes brought me to a stop, crouched uncomfortably on the steps.

"Son, why don't you come down?" Dad asked. I hadn't seen him move to stand behind Sam. Bobby hovered by the banister, his eyes staring pleadingly into mine.

I frowned, anger settling in my gut. He had no right to call me his son, no right to act like he cared for me. I clambered to my feet, pinning a burning gaze on my family.

"Something you want to say to me, sir? Sammy?" Dad's voice seemed to loss itself in his chest, his mouth moving pathetically. Sam's face paled, I watched comprehension strike his mind. But no one replied to my question.

"Thought not." I descended the stairs, shoving brutally past my family. They didn't move to stop me until I was already out of the door.

"Dean, where are you going?" Sam asked

"To find a car that needs fixing."

"Can I come?"

I shook my head. "Not this time, Sammy. Next time, maybe."

I didn't hear his response, I let the door slam shut behind me.

_This is the start of my goodbye. _

The night had crept in before I decided to face them again. The kitchen was empty, a cooling pizza left on the table. I turned away from it, instead choosing to march toward Sam's room. I watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling with each slumbering breath. I sat down gently on the bed beside him, careful not to wake him. He rolled toward me, his hand fisting my shirt. I smiled sorrowfully, emotions that had previously made no sense to me, suddenly righting in my head.

"It's come down to this, Sam. I never thought I'd be saying goodbye while you were sleeping. I guess that makes me a coward. You won't understand why I won't be here when you wake up. I'm sorry, sometimes I wish I was strong enough to stay. But I'm not. The thing is, Sammy, you and dad suffocate me. You've become a prison to me and I can't stay anymore. You'll be all right, Dad and Bobby will look after you. I need to get away." I ran my fingertips across his face, a sleepy smile crept onto his face. "Goodbye, Sammy."

I broke away from the grip he had on me and left the room. I paused outside Dad's room, hearing his heavy breathing inside. I pushed open the door and stood motionless beside his bed.

"I hate you, Dad. I want you to know this. I will never forgive you for what you've done to me. You didn't have to hunt the demon, you could've let it go and raised your children properly. You could have been a father to me but you chose the demon instead. When you wake up in the moring, I'll be long gone. And I hope you cry. You're no father to me. Goodbye, John."

I turned away from him, letting the words he'd never hear linger in the air. Soon, a bag of basic essentials was hanging of my shoulder and I was sitting on a wrecked car under the moonlight.

"What are you doing up, Dean? It's past Midnight." Bobby's voice cut through the silence. I turned to acknowledge him before looking back at the sky. Before I turned my head away, I thought I caught a glimpse of something flicker through his eyes. A deep regret and sorrow.

"I couldn't sleep. Thought maybe I needed some air."

"You should've brought a jacket with you. It's cold."

I shrugged. "I don't feel it."

The car next to me groaned as Bobby leant against its worn shell. I glanced at him as he stared up at the same stars I was. I don't know a lot about Bobby. His secrets are so well guarded that sometimes I forget he has them. He won't ever say how hunting became his life. His eyes speak of his haunted life, of what he'd seen and done. Will I be him one day? Tired of life yet fearful of death. Feeling the weight of every action press on me.

"I know why you're here, Bobby." He turned cautious, confused eyes to me. "Dad told you to watch me, stop me from leaving. You're on baby-sitting duty. Well I have news for you, I don't need one. So you can stop pretending you care and go away."

"Pretending I care? Boy, if I didn't care you wouldn't be in my house. I'd have tossed you onto the streets." I snorted, turning away from him. "You're daddy doesn't want you to leave because he knows you might not come back. None of us want you to leave, Dean."

"You honestly think you can stop me?" There was a challenge in my voice, I was daring him to try and restrain me. To hold me down.

"Probaly not. But I'm not letting you leave without saying goodbye."

I sighed. "But what if it's what I need? What I want?"

"Is it really what you want, Dean?"

"Just for a little while. I don't ask for much, Bobby. I try not to be selfish and to put my family first. I hunt to the best of my abilities. I like to think I'm a good son, a good brother. This is the best I can be, but it's never good enough. Why isn't it?" I looked back at him, a childish longing to understand why I was never enough.

"You're more than enough. I know you don't think that we notice but we do. I can see what you do every day. Trust me, Dean, your family loves you. I love you."

"Love? My family doesn't know how to love. They only know how to hate...at least, they don't know how to love me."

Defeated, with tears stinging my eyes, I curled my knees against my chest and hid my face. I heard Bobby move and suddenly his hand was resting on my neck. The gentle gesture, his kind words broke the wall I had built around myself and haunted tears slipped down my cheeks. The force of the sobs shook my body, I tried to fight them but they just kept falling. Years of agony and betrayal forced their way out of my clenched lips. I cursed myself for my weakness, hating that I'm broken down in front of Bobby. But there was some small part of me that was relieved as the pressure on my chest started to ease. The guilt of my imitate departure brought a fresh round of weeping that never thought of being silenced.

"Dean. No, don't cry. It's all right." Bobby's words were useless, meaningless and did little to beat away the darkness of my mind. Bobby could not change what my family had done to me. He couldn't change how useless and broken I had become. Only I could, only I could ever save myself.

"What did I do wrong? Was it because I survived instead of mum? Does dad wish I'd died?"

"NO! Listen to me, Dean. No one wishes you dead. We're grateful you survived. Your daddy just doesn't know how to show it."

"He used to know. I...I remember when he used to love me. Once upon a time, I know he did. He loves Sammy, even when they fight I can see it. I'm a machine, dad will never love me. He can't love a soulless robot."

"Dean...I...didn't know you felt like this. Why didn't you tell us?"

"What good would it have done? I'm not supposed to feel anything. Daddy's perfect solider. Well...this is my last stand."

I dragged my hand over my eyes, destroying the tears clinging to my face. Bobby stepped back as I raised my head, resolve settling in my gut. I shoved away from the car, standing on sure feet. Bobby watched me warily, unsure of my actions. I bent down, retrieving a bag from the side of the rusty shell. Bobby knew what it meant and his eyes tightened. It was what I had always intended to do this night. To say goodbye and move on.

"Can you understand, Bobby? That I need to leave?"

"Yes. I understand what you need to do. Do it." His voice was laced with sorrow.

Bobby's words were what I needed. The acceptance and the wings to escape on. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, briefly hanging onto him, offering thanks in the only way I could. He seemed reluctant to let go when I pulled back.

"I don't know when I'll be back. I wish I could give a defiant date but I can't."

"Take as long as you need. We'll wait for you."

I looked back at the house, at the window above Sam's bed. "Look after them, Bobby. Especially Sammy. Don't let them do anything stupid, OK?"

"I won't, Dean. They'll still be here when you come back."

"I don't know if I'll be back."

Bobby studied me, capturing my gaze. He smiled softly. "You'll be back. You love them too much to say goodbye forever." He pushed a set of keys into my hand and motioned to a truck parked behind me. "Its yours."

"Thank you."

There was so much I had wanted to say, so many apologies and thanks but they wouldn't come. Wordlessly, I shoved the bag onto my shoulder and turned away.

I walked away and left all I believed in.

...

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	5. I look in the mirror and see my guilt

Two chapters in one day. Making up for lost time. I'm not happy with this chapter but I hope you like it. Yes, John is out of character, I hope that doesn't upset anyone.

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

I look in the mirror and see my guilt.

Sam.

Sammy,

If you're reading this, then I'm not there anymore. I would have been gone for some time. I hope you're not upset. I don't want you to be. I'm sorry if you are.

This isn't the way I wanted to say goodbye, words written on paper where I can't see your face. I wanted to tell you them to your face but I guess I'm too much of a coward. Maybe you're wondering why I've left you behind. The truth Sam, is that I'm suffocating when I'm with you and Dad. You don't see and you can't hear. You don't notice me until I'm standing bleeding before you and even then you forget me within a moment. You don't look because you've forgotten I'm there. I know now what I am. I'm a weapon, part of the furniture. I was never a son or a brother. I thought I could deal with that...but...I guess I can't. I won't live as a lie anymore, I won't let you define me. So yes, I have left you behind me and I don't know if I'll be back. I hope one day, you can forgive me.

You argue too much, your words are often so venom filled, your anger misdirected. Death tore our family apart once before, you had no control over that. You can't be held responsible. But breaking out family apart for a second time...it's your fault alone. I tried to hold us together but when I became just another word in your fights I knew there was no point. I don't understand why you fight so much. You never make sense when you fight and your words are poisoned ice.

I can't be dad's perfect little solider anymore. Because I know that's all he sees whenever he looks at me. I'm a machine, born from the ashes of the fire. Dad forgets I'm his son. I know you don't understand, why I follow dad, why I'm his shadow. After mum died, Dad's orders were all I had. He was all I had, you were too young. Dad was safety and he gave me something to cling onto until I could break free. Well, knows that time, Sammy. Don't look for me. You won't find me.

I won't say I love you because I'm not sure that's what I feel for you anymore. But I can't say I hate you. I know you're reading this dad. I hope you feel shame, knowing what you made me do. I don't like how I feel but I know I blame you. You were supposed to love me but somehow you forgot. You forgot you had two sons. I shouldn't have needed to remind you. A father should always remember his sons. I sorry I wasn't enough. Maybe my life should've ended that night in the nursery, perhaps that what you wish. But it didn't happen like that. You are no father to me, John.

By the time you read this, I'll be long gone.

Dean.

The paper slipped through my numb fingers. Tears welled up in my eyes and slipped out. It had happened. I hadn't done enough to keep him with us. My brother had left, escaping into the darkness without a goodbye. The inked words told the story of a man broken by his family. Of a discarded brother and an unloved son. I had always assumed Dean knew that I loved him. I thought I showed it to him with everything I did. Looking back, I guess I told him the opposite. I tried to tell Dad to show Dean his love, but I never realised it was me that should be telling him.

"I...never knew he hated me so much..." Dad whispered, his proud face broken. "I never realised what I did to him."

"He'll come back, won't he, Dad?"

"I don't know, Sammy."

"I love him, Dad. Can we find him so I can tell him?"

Dad looked up at me and motioned me toward him. Quietly I slipped across the room and perched on the bed beside him.

"I don't know where he is, Sam. Dean told us not to look for him, which means he doesn't want to be found. I wouldn't know where to start looking."

"I thought he knew. I didn't think I had to tell him."

"I know. I thought he knew as well. I didn't know our arguments hurt him so much." Dad sighed, a broken noise that came from a hidden part of his heart. "God, I have so much to make up for."

"Can't we at least try to look for him?"

"Of course we are, Sam."

"No, you're not." Bobby's words ripped up the fragile hope I had. Dad's enraged gaze turned to his friend.

"Why not?" He demanded

"That boy left for a reason. He left because he couldn't cope with you anymore. You broke him. He's gone to find himself, maybe fix himself. Leave him be."

"He's not safe out there, Bobby. The demon, it knows him. How can I protect him if I don't know where he is?"

"You should've thought of that before, John. Dean's a smart man, he'll be OK."

"He's a child, Bobby. Barely twenty years old. How can he survive out there?"

"John, Dean hasn't been a child for years. The demon killed the child your son could have been. You threw to much on his shoulders. He's a man and he'll be fine."

"Bobby?" I asked, damp eyes turned to me. "What did he say? You haven't read the letter yet you seem to know what it says."

Bobby sighed, dragging his hand over his eyes. "He told me he was broken. That he didn't understand why you couldn't love him and he needed to say goodbye."

"How do you know?" Dad's voice was suspicious, angered.

"Because he told me. Last night, before he left."

"You didn't stop him?"

"He would have gone anyway, John. No matter what I did. He was already packed and about to leave."

"You could have tried!"

Bobby shook his head. "You didn't see him last night. He was broken and crying. He was truly losing himself. He was a mess, angry, sad, spiteful, hateful. Everything Dean isn't supposed to be. If leaving was the only way to save himself, I'm glad he left." Dad spluttered angrily, words unable to form around his rage. "He'll come back, John. Someday."

With fresh tears in my eyes and sobs caught in my throat, I walked away.

"Mum, it's Sam. I know I don't talk to you often, I hope you're not mad. You probaly know what happened last night. You know that Dean ran away. If you know that then you must know how sorry I am. Please, tell him I'm sorry. Tell him I love him and that he's wanted. But most of all...bring him back to us. Please."

"Sammy? Are you OK?" Dad asked. I rolled my face away from the pillow I was hiding in.

"I'm so guilty, Dad. Dean's done so much for me...for us...and we repay him but hurting him. It's our fault he ran away."

"I know, Sammy. When we find him, so much is going to change around here. We'll let Dean call the shots."

I shook my head. "He doesn't want that. He wants us to stop fighting and tell him we love him."

"I know, son. We'll do that too."

"Do you think we'll find him?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. If he doesn't want to be found it's unlikely he will be. Unless he slips up and leaves clues behind."

"I'm going to go out of my mind. How are we supposed to know if he's OK?"

"We have to trust he'll be fine. Bobby's right, he's smart, resourceful."

"I can't believe everything went so wrong."

Dad's hand moved, I saw Dean's letter clasped in his shaking fists. When would Dad be able to let go of it? Would it be when Dean returned to us? Or if we accepted that we had to let him go? I'd never be able to stop looking for him. I can't imagine my life without my big brother, my protector.

"Dad...tell me...Dean was more to you than a solider wasn't he?"

Hurt flashed through Dad's eyes. "He was, Sammy. I remember when he was born. A small bundle of flesh and limbs. He screamed, oh boy, did he scream. But he was my son, my baby boy. There's something special when you hold your first born in your arms for that first time and know he's yours. I loved him instantly." Realising what he's said, embarrassment flashed across his face, his cheeks turning a dusty red.

"Maybe you should tell him that." I remarked softly

"I should." It was then Dad noticed the phone on the bedside table. "You tried to call him?"

"Yeah. It goes straight to voicemail."

"That doesn't suprise me, Sam."

"I know."

"_This is Dean. Leave a message."_

"_Hey, Dean. It's Sam again. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Please come home, Dean. Please."_

"_This is Dean. Leave a message."_

"_Son, it's Dad. Answer us, please. Just let us know you're all right. One phone call. Please."_

"_This is Dean. Leave a message."_

"_Dean...what can I say? I found your letter and it hurt. We didn't realise what we were doing and that's our fault. But you don't have to leave because of it. Please, I need my big brother back."_

"_This is Dean. Leave a message."_

"_Dean...son...I'm so sorry."_

"_This is John Winchester. Leave a message and I'll get back to you."_

"_Stop calling me."_

...

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	6. Games the broken play

Hello everyone! Lots of lovely reviews, thank you! Next chapter!

Enjoy

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

The games the broken play.

Bobby

I never expected Dean to break down. I didn't expect to find him splintered underneath the moon's light. He'd kept so quiet, he'd been the same as always. I never dreamed that there was all that agony inside him. I didn't know it was there so I never thought to look. It's not an excuse though, I shouldn't have left Dean to suffer in a place where he never felt loved.

_I didn't know, Dean._

I didn't expect to feel all this conflicting guilt. Guilt that Dean suffered and guilt that I let him go. I know that what I did was right, but Sam and John don't seem to understand. But I wonder, would I understand if Dean had left me instead of them? I want them to understand. I wish that they saw Dean that night, venerable...broken...I wish they'd heard him, pouring his raw torment out to the first person who took an interest in him. They should have watched his tears, falling down sculptured cheeks, should have felt them shake his frame. There's so much they should have done but the chance, that had once hovered in front of them, had slipped away.

_Did they know to grasp the chance?_

_...Did Dean play his games to well?..._

I hovered in Sam's door way, my gaze slipping toward the cold, empty spare bed. It would be a long time before Sam let another body warm that bed. I wondered if he could feel Dean there, if maybe somehow, Dean's scent had lingered on the linen. Sam hadn't touched it, I could see the sheets were mussed in the same way that Dean had left them. A gentle sniffle brought my attention to Sam. He was sitting up on his bed, resting against the headrest, with something black clasped in his hands. I moved forward, Sam heard my approach but didn't react. I perched on the edge of the bed, watching mournful tears fall from his eyes.

"What you got there, Sam?" My curiosity bubbled out of me but it was also a way to break the silence around Sam.

Slowly, Sam held up the fabric. "It's Dean's shirt. It's his favourite. He left it behind." My heart cracked a little. Sam grasped the shirt close to him again, holding it against his heart. "I miss him, Bobby."

"I know, kiddo. I do too."

He looked up at me, I could see the hurt and confusion swirling in the depth of his eyes. He was just a boy. A boy who's already fragile world had been shaken again. He was aching for the security of his older brother, something I couldn't give him. Never, would I understand the bond the brothers' share. I knew that Dean's absence was striking a place in Sam's soul reserved only for Dean. I wondered if Dean could feel it wherever he was.

"I don't know what to do. I want to talk to him but he won't answer my calls."

"I won't lie to you, Sam. Something inside Dean is broken and he needs to fix it. That's why he's gone. He needs everyone to give him a little time to sort himself out. It's because of that he won't answer his phone."

"What's broken in him?"

_His spirit, Sam. _

I sighed. "Something very important."

Sam shook his head. "No. I need to know what exactly is broken so I can help it stay fixed."

"It's not going to be that easy, Sam."

"Tell me!"

"HE'S broken, Sam. His spirit is broken and I don't think you can help him with that."

But Sam looked at me with such certainty. "I'll help him. Because I know now what's wrong."

"When Dean comes back he's going to need more than that. He's going to need your support and understanding because he'll be emotional. I need you to promise that you won't be angry because he left."

"I won't! Not because off this!"

"That's good, Sam."

"Dad's angry. He doesn't understand. But I do."

"Do you really?"

"I think so." Suddenly his eyes were heartbreakingly guilty. "We didn't see him. I didn't realise everything he did for us." He gripped the wrinkled shirt tighter, burying his face in it. "I made him feel unloved. And I didn't see."

"But you can make up for that, Sam. You and your daddy. It doesn't have to be like this."

"Do you think he'll come back, Bobby? Is he gone for good?"

"No. Despite what he wrote, Dean loves you. He won't be gone for long."

"Do you think he'll forgive me?"

"Yes, Sam. I think he will."

There's something wrong when a father remains coolly detached from his son's absence. When he acts like nothing amiss and doesn't notice the empty seat at the kitchen table. It's heartbreaking to watch him exchange words, conversations, but never once acknowledge that he forced his child to leave. That he was responsible for his boy's downfall.

_You truly have a heart made of stone, John._

_...Dean, I understand more and more why you did what you did..._

Sam pushed his food around the plate with his fork. I hadn't once seen him lift the fork to his lips. I didn't know the last time he had eaten. His eyes were still glowing with a guilt I couldn't take away. He was wearing Dean's shirt, the sleeves hanging past his knuckles and the body hanging of his small frame. He was devastated, guilty, lonely and he was only just beginning to understand what he and John had done. John's phantom anger blazed in his eyes but there was no remorse, no fear for his son. He could have been carved from stone, his heart was ice. I wanted to shake some sense into John's battle hardened frame, wanted to drill the severity of the situation into his skull. But John would not listen, he would not understand.

_And for that Dean, I can never apologise enough._

_I'm so sorry for this broken family._

The room was wrong, too quiet and still. There was no brotherly banter, none of Dean's snarky comments. I hadn't realised how much Dean's personality filled the house. Without him this place wasn't a home, it was too big, with dust gathering in its corners.

Without Dean, there was no Winchester family.

There was just frightened men. Keeping secrets from the world and screaming in the dark.

_Now do you understand, John?_

"Stop staring at me, Bobby." John demanded

"You're really something, John."

"Excuse me?"

"Your son's missing. Ran away because off you. Yet you don't seem to care."

"I know he's gone. He made his own decision."

"Did you read the letter? He called you 'John', practically disowned you as his father. Isn't there a part of you that tells you how wrong this is?"

"I read the letter. It told me that he's given up."

"He's given up on you! Because you hurt him!"

"I did nothing!"

"Exactly. When was the last time you held him when he cried? How long ago was it when you last turned around and told him that he was loved? That you loved him?" John's gaze fell away, finding the worn table top. Silence was my answer. "So long ago, you don't remember, huh? Well, let me tell you something. Last night, Dean cried in my arms." John glanced up, for a moment there was a flicker of horror and sorrow in his eyes but it died before it could be saved. I heard Sam swallow uneasily but he continued to listen. "He told me everything. How hurt he was, frightened, confused. He thinks you see him only as a machine." I sighed. "John, Dean told me that he believes you wish he'd died that night, not Mary."

The silence that followed was that of shattering hearts. Sam's splintered loudly, his tears gasping out of him, the effect was instantaneous. John's heart broke quietly, agonisingly, piece by jagged piece. I watched the father in John fight with the hunter, saw the duel personalities struggle for dominance. In that raw, unguarded moment, I saw the frightened man. I saw how guilty he was, that he didn't understand. John was trying so hard to remain detached, to not feel his wrecked heart. He didn't want to notice the empty bed, the abandoned space beside him. He ignored Dean's possessions littering my house, the books, guns, jackets. That's why he hadn't commented on Sam's clothing, because it was Dean's. He was trying to survive a situation that had been ripped away from him. He wanted to make things right. He needed Dean too. He loved his son, finally through the shards of ice, I could see it. But he'd never say. His silence had destroyed his child, sent him running into the embrace of the night

It was a silence he had to break in order to bring Dean home.

But...I wasn't sure if the words would ever come...

...


	7. Reality beyond the curse

Hey everyone! Thank you for your wonderful reviews! I'm sorry this chapter took a long time. I wanted to be sure that I got it right as it's Dean's first solo chapter. I didn't want it to be like other fics I've read. I'm still not sure if it's right, let me know what you think. SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT! Hope it was worth it!

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand

Reality beyond the curse

Dean

_I never really thought about my future._

_...I thought about my dreams and what would happen when I got there..._

_But I never considered the journey to reach my destination._

_...I never thought about what I'd do when I was on my own..._

_I've only just realised...I still don't know what to do..._

I honestly didn't think that leaving them behind would hurt.

There was a dart of pain in my chest, when I glanced in my mirror and couldn't see Bobby anymore. When the house became part of the darkness and part of my memories. The truck rumbled into life beneath me, the seats were worn and smelt stale, my freedom on four wheels. With a sigh in my heart I pulled away from the house and left a curse behind. A light flickered in an upstairs window, a shadow fell across it, there was a whisper in the night and I turned my back on it.

_Sammy...I'm so very sorry..._

"_This is Dean. Leave a message."_

"_Dean, it's Sam again. This is officially my hundredth message. I miss you, so much but Bobby says you're angry and you won't call back. I keep reading your letter and I'm sorry. I'll say it every day for the rest of my life if you come back. Come home, Dean. I need you. I'll keep calling and leaving messages until you answer me. I'll drive you nuts. I promise, I will. Dean...I love you...Just tell me you're OK."_

It's been two days since I walked away. Two days of heartache and guilt. I'm waiting for the freedom. I'm praying for my anger to leave.

I'm still wishing to understand why I was cast aside.

With a sigh, I threw my phone away from me, letting it bounce against the hideously coloured bed spread. The motel was cheap, dirty and lonely. Hidden from the world and anything that would come looking for me. Sam hasn't stopped calling me, hasn't given me the time I need. His messages are sincere, sometimes heartbreaking but I'm not sure I can believe him.

_He's trying...doesn't that count?..._

_...But...why wait until I'd left to tell me?... _

I can't remember the last time he said he loved me, can't remember the last time I felt wanted. I'm so sure that his words are guilt, a way to ease his burden.

_I'm sorry, Sam. I just can't come back yet._

I stood, pacing the length of the room before falling into a chair that groaned beneath me. I know I should call, I owed Bobby that much. Even owed the family I'd left behind, maybe then my brother's begging would stop. I couldn't make myself reach for the phone, wouldn't let my fingers dial the numbers I knew so well.

_I won't be weak again. You won't break me further. I'm more that you ever dreamed I could be. You'll see. You haven't beaten me._

I wish I'd been strong enough to scream at dad, to drive my pain through his heart of ice and make him understand. I wanted Sam to understand, I'm not invincible, I'm no hero. I have a human heart that hurts and a mortal soul that bleeds. I have dreams, hopes that dad didn't chisel away, that didn't burn that night. I'm ready to embrace them and I'll do it on my own.

The phone sung into life again, the screen flashing a name in warning. I stood, stalking over to it and staring down. A Winchester's name pulsed, a frown fell across my face, it wasn't the name I expected. I let it ring, smirking at the rage my dad would feel as his call went unanswered. When the music died and the glow faded, I held the phone tight. No message, nothing else to drill further into my weakened mind.

"You won't find me, dad. I'm not letting you win."

Silence was my answer but I tasted a challenge in the air.

It was the sound of mournful silence that made my sleep uneasy. That gave nightmares the ability to invade my sleeping mind. I gasped awake, sweat beading on my forehead, my lungs grasping greedily at air. The conjured monsters still held sway over my waking mind, still let their fingers tug on me. I knew they held no real threat, the world of make- believe could never capture an adult mind for long, could never bring me to my knees. It was too easy to forget that my world was make- believe. The whispered phantoms had sunk their claws into me when I was young and had no intentions on releasing me. But I shoved them away, burying them deep inside.

The blankets had twisted around my legs, binding my ankles together. With a snarl, I ripped them away, tossing the fabric to the floor without a glance. I jerked out of bed, anxious fists clenching by my sides. I turned to the window, apprehension building in my gut. I'd been stationary for too long, there wasn't enough road between me and Bobby's house. The distance could be breached in days and I wasn't ready to be found. Sooner or later, I'd be discovered here, backed into a corner with no way out. The room was suddenly too small, I was too aware of the footsteps outside my room. I had to run, it was all I knew. I tugged ripped jeans over my boxers and pulled a creased top on. It took me moments to gather my belongings and leave the room but it was seconds to long. I could feel my dad breathing down my neck, could hears Sam's trembling voice begging for a sign. I didn't know if they were looking for me, couldn't imagine their emotions, all I could think of was my need for the road.

_You won't catch me. I'm faster than you think._

_You won't catch me. I'm determined not to break._

I'd been gone for five days when I pulled the truck over, hunger an uncomfortable pressure in my stomach. There was hundreds of miles of tarmac behind me and still I didn't feel safe. Could feel bitter eyes watching me. The dinner I entered was trash, decaying seats beneath fat men and horrors in the kitchen. But it was food and it was warmth and cheap.

_It was a sign of how low I'd fallen._

The waitress that sauntered up to me, smiled with crimson lips set on an tanned face. Her body curved in the right places, she was stunning and she knew it.

"Hey there, beautiful. What can I get you?" A bubblegum pink pen poised above a torn notebook.

"Burger. Chips. Coffee."

She scribbled it down before sending me a glance, a smile still on her face she sank down into the seat opposite me. She lean forward, plumping her breasts up on her arms, gazing at me through kohl lined eyes.

"What's your name, hon?"

"Dean. Tell me yours."

"Whatever you want it to be." I glared at her, watching as she relented. "Fine. It's Tessa. Happy?"

A smirk filtered onto my face. "Ecstatic. So, Tessa, food coming my way?"

A blush stained her cheeks, she was suddenly flustered. A chuckle rose in my chest.

"Oh, gosh! Sorry, Dean. You side-tracked me. Hang on, I'll give your order to Mike."

She hurried away, a skirt to short swished with her steps. She leant over the counter, thrusting the notebook into someone's hands, flashing a smile. She returned to my side and I motioned for her to sit.

"So, Dean, I haven't seen you around here before. New in town?"

"Yeah. Checking out the sights."

"So you came here? To AutumDale?" Amusement played in her voice.

"I suppose it might sound odd. But on the plus side, I met you." She giggled, shyness suddenly clouding her eyes. "Doesn't look so bad from where I'm sitting."

"Aren't you a charmer? What do you think of my town so far?"

"Considering I've really only seen this dinner...it's not bad."

"Well that won't do. I'm off tomorrow, I could show you around." Her eyes were sly and she knew my answer.

"It's a date."

Heavy footsteps announced a male presence before a plate of food hit my table.

"Hitting on my waitress, Punk?"

I glanced up at the voice's owner. A man, a few years older than me, regarded me through chocolate eyes. His face held a glimmer of amusement and ease, a smirk found my face.

"Guilty."

"I was offering to show him around, Mike. He's new in town." Tessa informed him.

"Oh, well, welcome to AutumDale." He held his hand out to me, a golden bracelet winked in artificial light. "Nick."

I clasped his hand to mine. "Dean. You the boss?"

Nick nodded, flicking black hair out of his eyes. "Enjoy the meal, Punk. Tessa, back to work, honey."

He left me with a cooling meal. I looked back at Tessa as she rose from her seat.

"I'll meet you here tomorrow Dean. Eleven sound good?"

I nodded before lifting the burger to my lips and watching Tessa turn to serve a balding man. I knew my phone was ringing, I felt it vibrating in my pocket but I ignored it.

_Not now, Sam. Later. When my heads on straight._

It was late when I found a motel, half hidden in bushes and cars. The woman at the desk flashed a scarlet smile, before she rolled a pen lid through her lips.

"Want a room?" She asked, her voice was uncomfortably nasally.

"Yeah. Single."

She nodded as she reached under the desk, pulling a set of keys toward her. She chucked one at me, allowing my reflexes to snatch it from air.

"That'll be $50, please."

I handed over cash, knowing cards could be tracked but I was relatively safe with notes. Retrieving my bags from the truck, I pushed open the motel door. A sigh left me as I studied worn puce carpets, crinkled burgundy bedspread and distasteful green walls. I threw my bag onto my bed, before shedding my coat and leaving it littering the floor.

_Would they know to look for me here? So far from home and so angry?_

I headed for the bathroom, knots of tension forming across my shoulders. The hot water soothed the physical pain but couldn't touch the deeper wounds. The ones that my flesh masked. I tilted my head back, letting the water run through my hair and cascade down my face. I wondered if my silence hurt them, if there was a part of them that ached at my absence. My mind told me that Sam's calls were misplaced guilt and my heart disagreed, screaming that Sam needed me. My heart was easier to shut out, it was easier to drown it's voice in the cocktail of my emotions. When the water ran cold, I stepped out, pulling boxers over my hips. Leaving the towel crumpled behind me, I fell onto the bed, knowing that dreams couldn't be held at bay for long.

Morning came quickly when night is plagued with guilt. I shook away my emotions as Nick's dinner came into view. Tessa was waiting for me, leaning against the wall, golden hair shinning in sunlight. She grinned as I stepped out of my car.

"Morning, handsome. Ready to see the sights?"

"You know it."

Raised voices attracted our attentions and we turned to look through the dinner window. I recognised Nick's built, but couldn't see his face, his hands had clenched by his sides. The man that faced me, I didn't know but I sensed a mind of trouble. A hiss left Tessa's clenched lips, I turned to her.

"Tessa?"

"Zack. He's trouble. I don't want him near Nick." Her voice was a warning to me. She didn't want me to stop her, she wanted to defend her friend. I did understand.

Zack swung a fist at Nick and it was my feet moving before my mind had kicked in. I placed myself in front of Nick, aware of his body on the floor behind me. I heard Tessa's whispered reassurances. Zack's cool gaze met mine, hostile and vicious. But I knew power. I had knowledge.

"You wanna back down there?" Tessa's warning had suddenly become mine. I was surprised I was defending people I didn't really know.

"No. He deserved what he got." Zack's voice was poisoned with alcohol, my instinct brought my fists up.

"Leave. Now." I ordered

"NO!"

He lurched forward on drunken feet, I moved to the side, deflecting the fist that came to close to my face. I threw a fist at him, smirking in satisfaction when he howled in pain. His next punch caught my face, I felt blood trickle down my chin. I unleashed my fist again, finding his stomach, he staggered to his knees. Pained eyes stared back at me, I pointed to the door.

"Get out." I demanded

"You've made a mistake." Zack's threat was pitiful.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" I asked, leaning back against the counter.

A growl was my answer as he hobbled past me and out into the street. I turned to Nick and Tessa, frowning at the bruise that had formed on Nick's cheek.

"Get some ice on that. Keep the swelling down. You hurt anywhere else?"

Tessa disappeared, toward what I assumed was the kitchen.

"No. I'm alright. How are you? You took a bad hit."

I ran my tongue over my bleeding lip, assessing the damage. "No harm. I'm fine."

Tessa returned and pressed ice wrapped in a towel onto Nick's face. "Thank you for helping, Dean." She smiled. "He's a nasty bastard."

"Hopefully he'll stay away from you."

"With any luck."

_Why am I looking for a ending before a beginning?_

...

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	8. Now, I finally understand

Hello! Before you read this, I must say sorry! This isn't how I wanted to turn out but I hope its not a disaster. Feel free to criticise and know my next chapter will be awesome!

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

What happens, now I finally understand?

John.

Dean's been gone for seven days now. There's been no whispers of him. No other hunter can tell me where he is. He's using the tricks I taught him against us, turning them back to stab at me. The wound is subtle, invisible to anyone who looks but there's no mistaking that it comes from Dean. I know he's alive, he's challenging me, sending my hunter's mind wild and he knows I can't find him. I know there's too much distance between us, he's appealing to the father in me to save him from the fall, aware that the daddy that held him is nothing more than an ember.

He's manipulating me, confusing my emotions. And I can't help but wish I understood his actions.

Sam's too quiet. He creeps around with his head bowed and shoulders slumped. There's always something that was Dean's in his grasp. A faded shirt. A pristine tape. A loved leather jacket. All parts of Dean that I wished I couldn't see. I don't want to acknowledge Dean's disappearance because I want to understand first. I know I can't comfort Sam, there aren't any words that I could say to ease his guilt.

_And where's your guilt, John? Too far out of reach and buried much too deep._

_...Dean...Son...What do I do?_

I pretend I don't see the venomous glares that Bobby flicks at me. He blames me for Dean's actions. Believes its my fault Dean choose to abandon his family. I didn't tell Dean to run. I told him to stay. He disobeyed an order and Bobby sees him as a victim.

"Call him."

The child's voice behind me startles a jerk out of me. I turn to Sam, hovering in the door way. There's nothing of Dean's in his hands, his wearing the shirt instead, it's faded and ripped but I know its a lifeline to Sam. For reasons I don't understand, I don't have the heart to scold him though irritation builds inside me.

"Call who, Sam?" My voice is harsher that I wanted it to be, but Sam remains undeterred. His mind is focused, his eyes cold and I see a hunter growing in him.

Sam rolls his eyes and pushes the phone toward me. "Dean. Call him. He might answer you."

There's fragile hope in Sam's eyes, I see it mix with fatigue and fear. He wants to believe I can fix this, that I can bring his brother home. But I don't know how too. I don't know how to dent Dean's self inflicted shields. How do I find Dean's heart when I can't reach my own?

"He probaly won't Sam. It's been a week, why would he start answering now?"

"Because he knows we're worried. He always checks in."

"Sam...this isn't a hunt. Dean's run away. He has no reason to check in."

"Please. Just try."

There's curiosity and hope starting to stir inside me. My hand reaches for the phone, pulling it toward me and dialling the numbers before I registered my actions. Sam slipped into the chair opposite me, emotions dancing through his eyes. It's been ringing too long, it'll slip into voicemail soon. With a sigh I go to hang up but a sound stops me. There's a click, someone's picked up.

"Dean?"

Heavy ragged breaths shake down the line. My hand clenches around the plastic and it crunches alarmingly.

"Son?"

He hisses, raw anger and betrayal waltzed in an inhuman sound but I know it's him. I can sense him, the tension in his body and the predatory thoughts in his mind. For a moment I'm stunned that this man is my son.

"What?" His voice is a iced growl. Surprise halts my breath momentarily. He's never spoken to me this way before. He's never disregarded my words, he's never left me hanging. He's never been so callous. I find myself wondering what I did that was so bad.

"Dean...I..." My voice falters, apprehension coats my tongue. Now that I can speak, I don't know what to say. I can't find the words to cross the chasm. There's no road before me back to my son.

Sam eyes me warily, I can read the warning on his face. He thinks I'm going to mess it up, destroy the chance of Dean's return.

"What do you want?" He's so hostile, defensive. Not how my son is supposed to be.

"I...I..."

"Give it to me." Sam snatches the phone from me, the shock and anger bubbles in my chest. I want to rip the phone from him. I want to know the right words to say.

"Dean! Man, it's good to hear your voice. I miss you. Are you coming home?" Jealousy ripples through me. I wish I could speak so easily to Dean. Sam's always understood Dean, been able to track his emotions and pull him from the darkness. But this time, Dean slipped unnoticed through his fingers. Is it possible that Sam is as guilty as me? Confusion sparkles though me when I try to find my crime. I haven't been any different. "Dean...I don't understand..." There's something wrong with Sam's voice, it caught in his throat. "W-why?" His eyes are shimmering hazel, Dean's poisonous tongue has hurt him. "No...Listen to me, I-Dean?...DEAN!"

His hand lowers the phone to the table before it catches his drooping head. I sit in silence and watch Sam battle with Dean's words. Shoulder's shake with unrestrained sobs, I hear them leap from his mouth. It occurs to me that my son should never cry but I can't offer him shelter. Because he needs his brother and I can't find him.

"He hung up. Bastard."

"Sam? What happened?" Even concerned my voice is stoic. There's no compassion in a man with no heart.

Sam doesn't look up to answer me, his gaze stays focused on the table top. "Dean...uh...he's not coming back any time soon. He says he's not ready. He wants us to stop looking for him. We're not allowed to call him, if he needs us he'll call." Suddenly tear glazed eyes dart up at me, grief etched onto his face. "This is it, isn't it? We've lost him. And it's all our fault."

He rises from the table as sobs catch in his throat. His words trip around in my head as I sit alone.

_...What's all our fault?..._

_Why have I lost you, Dean?_

The house it too quiet now that Dean has fled. My mind forgets he's gone and I start to call for him before I remember. Bobby sends me pitying glances and pretends he understands. He can't understand because I don't. I try to ignore the bedroom in which Sam hides. I don't want to know that he sits on Dean's cold bed and sobs. But I know he does and a part of me cries with him. I never imagined my life without Dean, without his stinging wit stirring a laugh. Without his cocky smirk as his mouth spoke words of lust to a passing waitress. I never believed I'd be without his instincts on a hunt, never thought that his calculating mind would be so far away from me. But this is the future I face. I face it with Sam, but how long is it until lose him?

A sigh leaves my throat as my mind sifts back through the past, unearthing memories. Dean's defences were so high, it wasn't until a few weeks ago that I knew something was wrong. It's been months since I've see a girl on Dean's arm or seen the fire burn in his eyes. For so long, his face, his passionate eyes have been dead. I can't work out why. I lay back on my bed and turn to my side. Sleep pulls on my mind and I sense the dance of dreams. I hoped that morning brought a new understanding.

"Where's our son, John?"

Her voice reached through my sleep muddled mind. I frowned, searching the sorrowful darkness around me. The shadows hid her, but I could hear her. Her words were desperate, frantic and I didn't understand.

"...Mary? I can't see you."

"Where is he, John? Where's Dean?" She was growing panicked, her voice aching with fear.

"I...don't know. He ran away."

"Where's our son? Where's Dean?"

"I don't know! He left me."

She was angry. Something in the atmosphere had changed; a whisper of rage rattled the darkness. Mary remained hidden, her face a secret in the shadows. I wanted to reach out for her, comfort her and make the same empty promises I had done all those years ago.

"Where is he? Find him, John!"

"He doesn't want me too. He wants to be alone."

"No! He can't be alone. Not my baby. The darkness hunts him. Find him!"

"Is he in danger?"

"Where is he, John? Where's Dean?"

"He's gone, Mary. Took a car and left. I don't know where to look. He's covered his tracks so well."

"You're not looking hard enough! FIND HIM, JOHN! FIND HIM! SAMMY NEEDS HIM! YOU NEED HIM! FIND HIM! WHERE'S OUR SON, JOHN? WHERE'S DEAN?"

"I DON'T KNOW, MARY!"

Her voice cut off in a sob and the darkness pulsed with her grief. I reached forward, something chocking inside my chest. The shadows shattered at my touch, I threw up an arm to protect my eyes as light exploded around me. When I lowered my arm and my eyes adjusted, the sight before me brought me to my knees. Before me was Mary, her hair glistening in supernatural glow, her lips moving in words I couldn't hear. Resting, with his head in her lap was Dean. His eyes were wide, blank and unseeing. His chest wasn't rising, his limbs weren't moving. My son had been claimed by death while his heart had been tormented with anger. There were tears in my eyes, a whine of agony left my throat. Mary's hands stroked through Dean's hair, tears rolled down her cheeks and her mouth still moved. I crawled forward on trembling limbs. I stopped in front of them, watching my wife hold the corpse of my oldest son.

"What happened?" I could barely dare to whisper.

Mary didn't answer, instead leaning forward to shield Dean's face with her body, her sobs increasing. I forced my eyes to Dean, searching for injury to a death I could not understand. But there was nothing, no blood leaking from puncture wounds. His body was pristine and perfect. There was nothing for me to grasp.

"Mary! Tell me what happened!"

"We don't know. No one knows. He's gone. Can't find him. Can't sense him. No soul. Lost in space. Never coming home."

"Mary?"

She jerked upright, I cringed under her anger. "You did this! Where is he, John? Where's my baby?"

"I don't know."

Small, childish arms circled my shoulders. A whisper of a breath danced across my cheek. I recognised the smell, soap mixed with gunpowder. Soft hair brushed across my nape. Dean. My son.

"This is my future, Daddy. All gone. You'll never know what happened and you'll never find my body. I'll never come home." He was crying. I hadn't heard Dean cry for years. Bobby had.

I turned him in my arms, bringing him to my chest. "Shh. Don't cry, son. You'll be Ok. Promise."

Innocent eyes glanced at me. "But Daddy lies. Daddy said he loved me."

"Dean..."

The child in my arms vanished in a gasp. My eyes found the unresponsive eyes of my twenty year old and I watched as he too faded away. Mary let out an anguished cry and fled into the night.

"No...come back! Mary! Dean!"

There were footsteps behind me, I peered over my shoulder. Dean stood behind me, proud and arrogant as he studied me on the floor. He didn't say anything, his eyes spoke volumes. I never wanted to see his handsome feature twist into revolution. I never wanted his angered eyes digging into me as I knelt broken on the floor.

"WHY DAD?"

"NO!"

The cry was instantaneous, the fear coated my tongue and I threw myself out of bed. My chest heaved and I couldn't get enough oxygen into my body. I sank onto the bed and let time calm my racing heart.

"Um..Dad...there's too many beers here. I don't drink, remember?" Sam motioned to the unopened bottle on the table. Bobby raised a curious eyebrow.

One left.

One spare chair.

One empty bed.

One missing son.

A broken son. Something I had done. Something I had to fix.

Oh...OH GOD!

I broke Dean. I shattered him and forced him away. But he never explained why. Sam knew. Sam ached in guilt but couldn't do anything until I did. I turned and sprinted from Sam but I heard him follow. I barged into Sam's room and heard him cry in protest. My hands sought Dean's letter, the ink was tear stained but I read through it.

'_I won't say I love you because I'm not sure that's what I feel for you anymore. But I can't say I hate you. I know you're reading this dad. I hope you feel shame, knowing what you made me do. I don't like how I feel but I know I blame you. You were supposed to love me but somehow you forgot. You forgot you had two sons. I shouldn't have needed to remind you. A father should always remember his sons. I sorry I wasn't enough. Maybe my life should've ended that night in the nursery, perhaps that what you wish. But it didn't happen like that. You are no father to me, John.'_

A child who disowns his father.

A child who doesn't realise he's loved.

A son who believes he should have died in his mother's place.

A brother who ran to fast and to far.

A man with unrestrained anger in his heart.

A hunter with a fractured sanity.

Under Mary's disgusted gaze and Sam's watchful eyes, I fell to my knees on the carpeted floor. And realised what I had done.


	9. Family Lost Enemy gained

Hello wonderful people! Thank you for your reviews and encouragement! I hope my work continues to please. Here's the next chapter. I am aware that 'Mike' became 'Nick' in 'Reality beyond the curse', put that down to a silly author. His name is 'Nick' from now on, sorry for any confusion. If there is any confusion with the terms I use, please don't hesitate to ask. P.S. I know nothing about American currency. Correct me if I'm wrong!

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

Family lost. Enemy gained.

Dean.

I knew I shouldn't be bothered. There wasn't anything he could do to me. I had experience where he had anger.

Still...my confrontation with Zack left a whispered warning in my mind.

I threw a glance over my shoulder into the street, as we tended Nick's wounds. Calculating chocolate eyes stared back at me through the glass. I straightened, folding my arms across my chest silently challenging him. The smirk that crossed his face could rival mine, there was something hidden in it. For reasons I didn't understand, I felt threatened and cornered. We regarded each other through hostile eyes, I stood my ground. The pressure of my gun against my side was comforting but I kept my hands restrained.

"Dean?" Tessa's voice snapped my attention back to her. "Are you ok?"

I looked back at Zack before I answered and saw a malicious light enter his eyes. His attention focused on the people behind me and I saw the light intensify. A silent snarl left my chest, I stalked toward the door.

"Dean! Stop!" Arms had suddenly ensnared my shoulders, immobilising my body, Nick's voice was at my ear. "Don't rise to him."

I heard the logic in his words and let it calm my mind. I saw Zack laugh but Nick turned me away from him. He pushed me down into the chair he had previously occupied, I couldn't see round him.

"Someone needs to sort him out." I growled, watching Nick as he dabbed on my lip.

"Yes. But that someone isn't you, Hot Shot." Nick declared.

"I can take him." I insisted around the cloth.

"I'm sure you can. From the looks of things you've got a hell of a punch. But Zack is dangerous and unstable. He could really hurt you."

I smirked. "Doubt that."

"You're cocky." Tessa commented. "And that will only get you hurt."

I shrugged, batting Nick's hand away. "He'll have to catch me first."

An amused, exasperated sigh left Nick's mouth, Tessa's eyes rolled skyward. "You're going to be a handful aren't you, Punk?"

"Damn straight. Listen to me Nick, don't let Zack in here. I don't trust him."

Nick bent forward, searching my face for something. Whatever it was he found it, a small smile crossing his face.

"All right. We'll play your way."

Tessa perched on the chair behind me, resting her elbows on her knees. "How do we stop him coming in? If we ban him, he'll start a fight in front of customers. We really can't afford that."

I frowned, running a hand through my hair. "I'll just have to hang around for a while." I shrugged.

Nick raised his eyebrows, his arms folded across his chest. "Hang around? Don't you have places to be?"

I shook my head. "I've got time."

"I think it's a good idea, Nick! Please let him stay!" Tessa's voice held childish excitement, her eyes glowing.

"I think the lady's decided." I grinned.

"Just because you fancy him." Nick mumbled. Tessa flushed crimson. A laugh left my throat. "But he does have a point." He turned to me. "I have an offer for you, Dean."

Intrigued, I leant forward. "I'm listening."

"You need money. From what Tessa told me, you're living in a Motel room. You need a job. I'll give you a job here and the apartment upstairs, IF you agree to work and keep Zack away from us."

"How much will you pay me?"

"$5.20 an hour. Plus you'll be paying rent by working here."

"Are you serious?" Excitement was starting to build in me, I jumped in my seat playfully.

"Deadly. What do you say, Dean?"

"Hell yes! When do I start?"

"Tomorrow. Bring your stuff here early and we'll get you settled." A blinding smile was on his face, Tessa's smile was angelic, her hand clamping enthusiastically. "Tessa, take him out and show him around. I'll handle business."

"Call if it gets busy or if Zack turns up." Tessa ordered.

"I will. Go have fun, kiddos."

"Don't call me that." I grunted as Tessa dragged me out of the room.

Nick's laughter echoed around me. A fond smile crossed my lips. Tessa's golden hair danced in sunlight as she tugged on my arm.

_...Do I see a future here...?_

"This is the Mall. It's pretty crappy." Tessa swept her hand around the glass building.

I watched the sunlight reflect in patterns on the floor. Neon shop signs caught my attention with wonder. People fluttered around, arms clutching bags and wailing children. The shops seemed endless, names I'd never heard off reached along the walkway. I frowned, feeling dangerously out of my league.

"Something wrong, Dean?" Tessa asked

"I...I've never been to a Mall before. Its big." I scowled at a fighting teenage couple, half impressed by the girl's vocabulary.

A thoughtful frown fell across her face. "You don't like it?"

"It'll take some getting used to."

"I can show you the old part of town."

"No. I want to see this."

_Dad never took me here...I didn't know what I was missing...I want to be here because I couldn't be before..._

"All right. Um...wanna get some food?"

"Sounds good."

She linked her arm through mine and pulled me toward the white food court sign. I followed her, weaving through people and dodging shopping bags. Children danced around my feet, people tutted at them, I heard their parents' scolding voices.

I listened to Tessa as she rattled of the names of shops I'd never remember. I'd never have enough money to afford all this, I'd never known anything nicer than a gun. We passed a shop, the intense smell of chocolate and vanilla brought my stride to a halt. Tessa giggled beside me, rocking back on her heels.

"Want some chocolate?" She guessed

I waved a dismissive hand. " No money. No matter."

Her forehead wrinkled. "I could give you the money and you pay it back."

"Like a loan?"

"Sure. I'm buying lunch anyway."

"In that case no. I'll survive without chocolate. Come on, I smell Pizza."

She laughed again and followed me. Her eyes sparkled with humour, playful mischief reflecting in her eyes. The food court was almost as packed as the shops. It took gentle manoeuvring, and shameless flirting to find a table. I sank into a chair as Tessa sauntered away to order food. She slipped from my sight, a sigh escaped me. I hooked my phone out of my pocket, staring at the silent screen. Sam had listened to me, taken my words to heart. I hadn't meant to make him cry. I just wanted him to let me work thing out by myself. I don't even know why I answered the phone when Dad's name flashed across the screen. Something had snapped inside me and I hadn't been able to restrain my angered words. I know I should call and apologise, sort everything out but there was too much pride and hurt inside me.

_I'm sorry...I can't return to you..._

"Smile, Dean. Might never happen." Tessa's voice jolted me back into awareness, I stuffed my phone into my pocket.

"True. What you get?"

"Same as you ordered at Nick's Dinner. That all right?"

"Perfect!"

She handed me the food and I tore the wrappings off. We sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching flustered people hurry around us.

"Wanna check out the library, Dean?"

"Library? Hell no. That's for Geek Boy."

"Geek boy?" Curious eyes flashed to me. "Who's that?"

_A memory._

_The past._

_A dream._

_My lost family._

"...My brother...He loves libraries."

Interest lit up her face. "Is he coming here?"

"No. He's still with my Dad."

"So...why are you here?"

I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat. "I...needed space."

"I see. But, Dean-."

"I'm tired. Think I'll head back to the Motel." I interrupted her.

"Message understood, Dean."

I nodded my thanks and lead her away from the Mall.

_...I miss you, Sammy..._

The night that followed was uneventful, I managed to forget my guilt. Morning light filtered through my window and I rose to pack my few belongings. Turning the keys in a reception, I placed my bag in the car and headed toward Nick's Dinner. He met me outside with a smile and pressed a set of keys into my palm.

"Follow me, kiddo."

"Don't call me that."

He laughed and lead me to stairs hidden in the back. Once I'd opened the door, Nick turned and headed downstairs. I gapped at the room I stared at, afraid to tread on the pristine white carpet. I shrugged and crossed the room, dumping my bag on the couch. The apartment was tasteful, blue walls merging with white carpets. Prowling into the kitchen, I was surprised to find a fridge groaning under the weight of food. I stalked into the master bedroom, inspecting the drawers and wardrobe. I flopped onto the crimson bedspread, the bed was soft underneath me, it unnerved me. I wasn't used to this, this amount of luxury seemed foreign to me.

_But I know you won't look here. I'm far enough away to be hidden._

_...Sammy...you'd love this..._

I swung myself to my feet and turned to the window. A frown fell across my face when I saw the conflict in the street below me.

"Fuck."

...


	10. Believe in hope

Hello everyone! Thank you for your unbelievably nice reviews. I didn't expect this to be so popular. Here's the next chapter. Sorry it's short.

Enjoy!

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

Believe in Hope.

Sam

_How do you repair a broken family when a part of it isn't there?_

_What happens when the puzzle is incomplete and the pieces won't fit?_

_...I wish you knew how sorry I am..._

Dad fell apart last night. I watched him shatter in pain and confusion. He should have gone to Dean then, righted the wrong my brother felt. But he couldn't. He couldn't reach out to my broken brother because he wasn't there.

I was unprepared for the emotions that slammed into me as I watched my father clutching a tearstained letter on the floor. Shock nearly brought me to my knees when I registered the blazing emotion in my mind.

Anger.

For the first time, since this mess started, I was...angry with Dean...

And straight away I knew that wasn't right. I knew my anger was misplaced, Dean didn't deserve it. But I couldn't let it go. I didn't understand. Tears were flowing in gentle waterfalls down my cheeks, my lungs gasped for oxygen. Dad turned a pained, startled gaze to me.

"Sammy?"

"I hate him."

Dad took me in his arms, it didn't occur to me to be surprised. All I knew was my longing for security, my wish to have my father and my brother.

_...Is this what you felt, Dean? This hole inside you? How long did you feel it?...Does it ever go away?..._

"Who?"

"Dean. I hate him."

_I don't._

"Think about what you're saying, Sam."

"I am. I hate him so much!" My fists had raised to catch Dad pathetically in the chest. He let me beat my hands against him. Let me work out my anger and betrayal.

_NO!...Why am I speaking poison?_

"You love him, Sam."

"I...I...I'm so angry with him. Why won't he come back?" I sagged against his chest, his arms wrapped around me. Even in my state I knew that the embrace was wrong. I didn't feel as safe, there was thawing love in these arms, not the blazing love I was used to.

"It's all right to be angry. I am too. But we can't let that drive Dean further away from us. You need to stay strong, Sammy. Understand?"

I nodded. "We need to show Dean we love him. Not that we're angry with him."

"That's right. I believe Dean will come back, one day."

"I want him back now. I miss him."

"I know."

I pulled free from Dad's arms, scrubbing a hand over traitorous tears. I shot a weak smile in Dad's direction, watching as a ghost of a smile found his lips. Dad picked up Dean's letter, the words his bleeding soul had hammered into ours. The guilt we were only just beginning to feel, the blame we were only just beginning to understand. Dad gently placed the paper down on the desk, smoothing the paper against the wood.

"We'll find him." Bobby's voice was a surprising comfort behind me. I turned in surprise.

"You told us not to go after him." Dad accused.

"Call me crazy, but something isn't right."

"What do you mean?" I asked, fear squeezing my mind.

"I'm not sure. Something's telling me to find Dean." He started to walk out of the door before I could respond to his words. But he glanced over his shoulder, pinning his gaze to Dad's. "Don't forget him, John. Don't let the hunt drag you back in. Your sons need their father. Not a hunter."

"I won't, Bobby. Well find Dean."

Satisfied, Bobby continued his journey out of the room. I span around to Dad, alarm flickering through my body.

"Dad?"

"What's wrong, Sam?"

"Don't hunt! Please! You hunt and Dean will be able to get further away from us. We'll never ever find him. Don't go on the hunt."

_How could I have forgotten...Dad breathes for the hunt, it's a part of him...NO! I can't let him..Dean won't come back if he knows Dad choose to hunt instead of looking for him._

"Easy, Tiger. I won't hunt until Dean is safely back with us."

"You promise?"

"Yes. Sam. I promise. Dean comes first." He didn't pause. I could see no lies in his eyes. His voice screamed sincerity.

"I'll hold you to it." I threatened and left the room.

I found Bobby later, bent over the phone and a list. With a sigh, he hung up the phone and scribbled furiously on the list. Scrubbing a hand over his beard, he turned to th phone again, leaning back against his chair, fragile hope on his face. I settled on the work surfaces near him.

"Hey, Jack. Bobby Singer here. Any signs of...damn! No, no its fine. He's an unbelievable hunter, we'll be lucky to find a footprint... All right. Thanks anyway...keep an eye out...OK?"

Something told me he had been having the same conversation for a while. The words in a different order but the answer always the same.

"Bobby?" I questioned, even though I knew the answer.

"No one's seen him. That Idgit can't have fallen of the edge of the world."

"You said it yourself, Bobby. He's an amazing hunter. He won't be found without a fight." Dad commented, slipping into the room.

"I know. But none of my contacts have seen anything. There's over fifty people written down here. How can he have escaped notice by all of them?" Bobby asked

"He's too good. Damn, how'd this get so far out of hand?"

"Can't we try a spell or something?" I asked

"It's too dangerous and Dean would probaly have blocked it."

"Can't we try it?"

"No. You'll endanger us and there's no guarantee it'll find Dean. He's been a hunter long enough to know how to block it."

"Your daddy's right. We'll find him another way."

With a sigh, I moved around to glance at the list Bobby had before him. So many names were scratched out, eating away at hope. Slowly destroying my chance of finding Dean.

"Have you called all of these people?" I stabbed my finger at the paper.

"All except Caleb."

"I'll call him!"

I scooped up the phone, dialling in the number of the hunter I knew little about.

"Hello?" His voice was familiar, comforting, rekindling something inside me.

"Caleb? It's Sam Winchester."

"John's kid? What can I do for you?"

"Dean's gone missing. Have you seen him?"

"Can't say I have. When did you last see him?"

"Last Monday. Caleb...there was a misunderstand that caused Dean to leave..."

"John lost control of his tongue?"

"Something like that. Are you sure you've heard nothing? Surely someone you know has seen him?"

"No. No one's seen him. I've heard nothing but I'll keep a look out."

"Thank you."

"Good luck, kid."

With a click he hung up. I placed the phone back on Bobby's desk. "He knows nothing. But says he'll look for Dean."

"Better than nothing, I guess."

_Finding you seems like an impossible dream._

_...Come back, Dean..._

_You don't know what this is doing to me..._

"Go to bed Sam. You look exhausted."

There wasn't enough left in me to fight my father's order. With a small nod, I followed the hallway to the bedroom.

I paused by my bed, staring at the cold, empty one where Dean should be. The pillows and blankets were smooth, unable to find a body to ruffle them. A glossy magazine with a half dressed girl collected dust on the bedside table. His clothes were thrown messily over a chair in the far corner. I have a thousand memories of my brother. Always the protector, the peace keeper, the one holding the foundations of our broken family together. When was the last time I was there for him? He wouldn't let me sooth him after his nightmares. He turned his back to me and embraced the darkness. I left my bed, falling into Dean's. It didn't smell of him anymore, it was frozen. Stuck in the same nightmare that we were.

"I miss you so much." I sobbed into a worn pillow.

I imagined I could hear my older brother's gentle voice. I pretended I could hear him breathing. I made believe he was with me...and I'd never felt more alone.


	11. Tell me, can I call you friend?

Thank you for your unbelievable reviews. You guys never cease to make me smile. I hope that my story continues to be worthy of your kind words.

Another chapter. I really am spoiling you. And it's slightly longer than the last few. I hope you like it.

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

Tell me, can I call you friend?

Dean.

There's something comforting about an enemy that can alight a deep suffocating rage. Who can drill resentment into a mind with each venomous word that escapes their lips. There's something amusingly pathetic about a man who takes his rage out on an unarmed woman. It's a true, cold-hearted man who can laugh at the face of a terrified girl. I watched as Zack taunted Tessa, clasping a thick, muscled hand onto her arm. I heard the dinner door swing open and tracked Nick's angry steps toward the pair and Tessa ripped herself free from Zack. Zack straightened, a grin of malice on his face and called out to someone. Two other men melted out of the afternoon light. Panic shot across Tessa's face as she cowered against Nick's side. I didn't like the way the tall, muscled man ran his gaze over Tessa's body. The gaze the shorter man shot at Nick spoke of pain and bloodshed. Then Zack raised his gaze, let it travel casually up the wall of the building until he found the window I was stationed at. There was a challenge in the smile that slipped onto his face.

And I understood.

Fight me or they get hurt.

"Fuck."

I shoved away from the window, pausing to riffle through my bag and pull a knife toward me. I slipped it into my coat pocket. I dashed down the stairs, the voices of the conflict reaching me as I entered the dinner. I snapped the sign to closed, thanking someone I didn't know that no customers had entered the dinner. The short man had taken a menacing step toward Nick when I placed myself in the heart of the group. A smug, knowing smile filtered onto Zack's face.

"Hello again Dean."

"Dude, don't you ever learn? I kicked your arse last time. Why are you here?"

"I brought friends." He informed me, motioning to the men like I hadn't seen them. "Wondered how you'd cope with them."

"Serious?" A snort of laughter left me. Zack raised an annoyed eyebrow. "You couldn't beat me so you ran to someone else? Can't fight your own battles?"

"Dean. Be careful." Nick warned me

"I can handle your buddies just fine." I disregarded Nick's caution. "And I'll wipe the floor with you. So who's first?"

Little and Large stepped toward me, their movements timed with each other. I slipped into a defensive stance, keeping my body protecting Tessa and Nick. When Large darted behind me, I span around, following his movements. The punch he shot at me was weak and messy, it bounced of my shoulder. I responded with a fist of my own, it slammed into his jaw. But the shift of my body had shown me Little as he positioned himself behind me.

One to distract. One to attack.

I growled, using the momentum of my body to turn and bring my fist into his stomach. Gasping he sank to his knees before me, I smirked.

"Larry!" Large cried, anger leaking into his tone.

The heavy, chaotic footsteps behind me alerted me to the furious man behind me. I ducked his fist but wasn't prepared to dodge the foot that slammed into my knee. White agony shot down the limb as I tumbled to the ground, unable to escape the next fist the rained down onto my chest. I snarled, lashing out with both legs, catching his ankles. He crashed down beside me, letting out a wounded howl of rage.

"Carl! Get up!" Larry ordered.

By now, Larry had staggered to his feet, his chest heaving in a rapid attempt to catch breath. He booted foot came to close to my temple as I scrambled to my feet. My retaliation was a swift jab to his face. I smiled in satisfaction when I felt bone give way beneath my fist. Carl's next fist did connect with my face, my healing lip tore open again. I spat blood onto the pavement, Tessa cringed in sympathy. Nick's eyes flashed me a warning that I ignored. My fist collided with Carl's temple, he crumpled silently to the ground. A startled cry left Larry's throat and he turned burning eyes to me. I smirked, letting a cocky swagger settle over me.

"That all you got?"

With my words, Larry let his sense escape him, let me take his mind. He swung at me, the burn of anger clouding his mind. I ducked and swung an aching leg at his feet. He didn't dodge and crashed to the ground, screaming in wordless rage. He swiped his hands at me, aiming for my throbbing knee. The stumbled steps I had take to avoid him, sent a spasm of pain down my leg, a wince washed across my face. He dived for me again, I lashed out, connecting my foot with his head. He slumped to the ground, I glared at his motionless form. Wiping blood away from my mouth, I turned to Zack, enjoying the fury blazing in his eyes.

"Next?"

Something metallic flickered in his hand, he moved to quick for me to track.

"DEAN!" Tessa screamed a warning

Instinct made me throw my hand up in front of my face. There was a sudden burning pain in my arm, I felt my skin rip apart, blood gushed down my arm. Tessa let out a horrified gasp, Nick's outburst was wordless hate. I shoved Zack away from me, reaching a burning hand into my coat pocket, extracting my knife from the material. It was then I understood that Zack had attempted to sink his own blade into my skin. Intended to violate my body with a steel blade. He had aimed for my face with almost deadly precision. I slashed my knife at Zack, he stumbled backward, surprise on his face. A mindless rage had captured my mind, the thirst for blood, the vengeance for my injuries was addictive. I barely registered Zack's cry of pain, barely realised he was on his back pressed against the ground.

"NO! DEAN! STOP IT!" Nick's frightened voice hit me like a knife. Clarity returned to me, I stifled a gasp. A thin river of blood was trailing from a cut on Zack's face. I was straddling his waist with my blade held to his throat. His eyes were goading me, daring me to shed more blood. "Back off Dean. You're better than this."

It wasn't Nick's voice that sent me reeling, sent me jerking to my feet in uncoordinated movements. It was the horror at my brutality, the sting of my fractured soul that let the hunter bleed into a mortal fight. The knowledge that I couldn't escape what I was running from, I couldn't escape my past. It was ingrained, pummelled into me through years of sweat and guns.

I resented my Dad even more.

It was a confused glance I sent to Nick as he gently disarmed me. He nodded to Tessa, she slipped her arm around my shoulders, pressing her hand to my still bleeding forearm. Zack caught my gaze and the promise of pain in his eyes sent a shudder around me.

"This isn't over. Watch your back, Dean." His poisoned threat made me growl.

"Leave him alone." Nick ordered.

Zack staggered clumsily to his feet. "Keep one eye on him, Nick. Someone might hurt him."

"Touch him and I'll finish what he started."

Nick's arm rested gently on my back and I let him push me toward the dinner. Zack's cold gaze followed me until the door swung shut behind us.

"Sit." Nick ordered.

Stubbornness flared in me but dimmed under his scorching gaze. Wordlessly I sank into a spare chair, it occurred to me that I'd sat here once before. Nick had tended to my split lip then.

"Tessa, fetch me a towel and a bowl of water. See if we have any bandages as well. And some ice." Nick instructed.

Tessa hurried away, her heels clicking on the tiled floors.

Nick lifted my bleeding arm close to his face. I studied the wound, it was smooth, precise but not damaging. I doubted it would scar.

"Don't think it'll need stitches. How's your leg, Dean?"

"It's fine." The words slipped so easily from my mouth.

"Don't lie to me. I saw you limp. So I'll ask again. How's your leg."

"Really it's fine."

Nick's face was too close to mine, I recoiled away from him, afraid he see darkness in my eyes. "Tell me the truth." He hissed. His voice sent shivers of shock around me. I didn't expect to feel fear in his presence.

I swallowed, uneasily. "It hurts." I whispered. "My knee."

He rolled my jean leg over my knee, ignoring my protests. Tessa appeared again, placing a bowl down beside me. She took my bleeding arm carefully in hers, her fingers so tender again torn flesh. She pressed a damp cloth to my arm, studying my reaction as I tensed beneath the sting. She smiled warmly as she continued to wash the blood away. Nick's prodding fingers had turned soft as he fingered my knee. He ran the pads of his fingers over the swelling muscle, clicking his tongue. He reached for the ice, securing it in a spare towel and held it to my knee. I flinched under the combination of pain and coldness but didn't pull back. Nick rested a hand on my uninjured knee, squeezing reassuringly. All hints of anger had left his eyes, there was only a compassion I didn't understand.

_Is this kindness?...it's different...Dad's hands were always rough at times he brought more pain than the wounds...There was always hurry in his actions, always another hunt...there's nothing waiting for me after this..._

_...What do I do?..._

Nick unrolled a bandage, propping my foot on his leg, he wrapped my injured knee. He'd done it before, there was knowledge in his movements. His hands were still so gentle, he tried not to jostle my leg. Tessa was humming softly under her breath as she reached for the spare bandage. Her movements wasn't quiet as sure as Nick's but she didn't hurt me. Nick lowered my jean leg again, letting it cover his work. I pulled my leg away from him and when Tessa released my arm, I tested the binding.

"It's strong. You've done this before." I commented.

"I grew up in a rough neighbourhood. It was important I knew first aid. I could patch my brother up." He shrugged.

"You have a brother? Older or younger?"

"Kevin. Three years older."

"You still see him?"

"No. Haven't for years. He left when I was seventeen and I was too stubborn to call him."

A ghost of pain rattled around my chest. Sam was sixteen when I walked away from him."You fought?"

"Mmm. Never did see eye to eye. He was the Golden Boy. I was just for show."

_That's better than being a weapon._

"Did it hurt you? When he left?"

"Yeah. I regret everyday that I let him walk out that door. I miss him."

I saw the pain in his eyes, saw years of tears and regret. Somewhere inside, I wondered if I had left Sam to that fate. I didn't think it was possible for my brother to miss me. He'd barely acknowledged me before.

_Tell me, Sammy. Will my absence change you? Is it possible I can return to Dad's melted heart? Will I see love in your eyes the next time I look into them? Or will there be a sea of endless hate?_

"Oh." I mumbled.

"What about you? Got any siblings?"

"Little brother."

He saw my face, the fear and confusion buried deep inside me. "You argued, didn't you? Argued and you ran."

"It's complicated." I shrugged and turned away.

"Didn't you? I see regret in your eyes."

"Would you think poorly of me if I said yes?"

"No. You left for a reason. I understand that."

"I have no regrets over my decisions. I needed space."

Silence threatened us, I shuffled uncomfortably, throwing cautious glances over at the windows. The busy street meet my eyes, people hurrying past, unaware of the drama they missed minutes ago.

"Where on earth did you learn to fight like that, kiddo?" Nick spoke in awe.

A smirk found my lips. " Rough neighbourhood. I was the one defending my little brother. You learn a few tricks."

"A few tricks! You knocked out two guys and nearly maimed the other. You're deadly."

"I only ever fight for a reason. Besides, I need to earn my keep."

"Every time you get hurt, I'm taking money from your wages."

"W-What? Why?"

"Simple. I can't have you bleeding all over my clean floor. You only respond to threats, so that's mine. I'll take $50 from you for each cut."

"...Starting from...?"

"Tomorrow."

I grinned.

"I mean it, Dean."

"Yes, Sir!" I mocked saluted.

Tessa laughed as Nick snapped a towel playfully in my direction.

I laughed as a small boy danced around my feet, later that day. Free from Zack and blood, Nick had opened the dinner. The steady stream of people had been enough to distract my mind from my dark thoughts. As promised, Nick had put me to work at once, shoving me out front, balancing orders with flirting. I watched the child dart under the legs of a fat man, he let out a jolly laugh in response. There was childish innocent in the smile the boy shot at the man.

"Adam! Come here." A redheaded women called.

"Yes, mummy." The boy turned on his heel and headed back for his mother.

I wandered over to their table, flipping to a clean sheet of paper. Adam grinned up at me, I flashed him a smile back. The women turned an attractive face to me, she sent me a flirtatious smile. When my lips curved back, her cheeks dusted red.

"What can I get you?"

"Pizza and Soda!" Adam declared.

"All right, Little man. And you ma'am?"

I smirked as her blush deepened in colour. "T-The same."

I scribbled their order down, laughing as Adam sent the pepper pot hurtling down the table. I turned on my heel, heading for the open window separating the customers and the kitchen. I handed Nick the paper.

"Another order, man. How's it going with the food?"

"Fine." Nick grunted as he tossed the order to a weedy man behind him. "Here, Ben, start on this."

"Yes, sir!" Ben disappeared into the heart of the kitchen.

"How's your first day, Kiddo?"

"Don't call me that. It's good."

"Mmm. And how many numbers did you get?" A frown with a smile dancing on the edges was present on his face.

"A couple but strictly for emergencies."

"Of course." He didn't believe me but I had amused him anyway. "Go on. Stop flirting with the customers."

"Spoil my fun!" I accused.

"Nick!" A older man with greying hair sauntered up to Nick. I watched Nick roll his eyes in mock annoyance. Randy...this man's name was Randy. "Let the boy have his fun while he can. Go for it, Dean."

"Thanks, Randy." I shot Nick a smug grin.

"Don't encourage him, Randy. He's bad enough already." He whipped a spoon at my hand. Laughing I pulled away. "Go on, scram!"

Waving a playful goodbye to Randy, I headed back toward the tables and word that had been foreign for years in my mind.

_I'm...Happy..._

Nick paused outside the apartment door, later that night. I stepped aside and invited him in, confusion swirling inside me. Nick folded his arms across his chest as he leant against the wall beside the bookcase.

"Look, Dean, it's none of my business but I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did." He paused, assessing my reactions to his words that held no meaning. Silently, I sat down on the seat opposite him. " I messed up with my brother. He's twenty-seven and I haven't sent him a birthday card for the last nine years. I miss him every day of my stupid life. I don't know where he is. I could have nieces or nephews for all I know. As my brother walked out that front door, I told him I hated him. I spat a vicious lie and those may well be the last words I ever say to him. And the guilt eats away at me."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, despite my harsh words and my lack of affection, I loved him. I loved Kevin so much. I worshipped him, he taught me so much but by the time he left we'd drifted apart."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"You could die tomorrow, Dean. And your brother would never know. I look into your eyes and I see a frightened, proud runaway. And you need time, I understand that but you can't abandon your family after one fight."

"How about after a lifetime of fights? Can I abandon them then?"

Nick took no notice of my defensive words. "Call him, Dean."

With that he left, his words ringing in my head and polluting the air. I buried my head in my hands and really thought about my family.

_Sammy...should I return to you...?...What's to say it'll be any different? Can I honestly say I know you've missed me, like I've missed you?_

_...I can't...I'm not sure I'll ever be ready to face you..._

"Mum. I know you're probaly sick of hearing me but I really need you. What should I do? Follow my heart or turn back? Give me a sign mum, please."

When memories surfaced in my mind, I knew my choice was made.

_I choose to stay. I can't lose something I don't have._

_I can't lose you, Sammy because I lost you years ago._

...

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	12. We'll never have this time again

Oh no! I'm breaking hearts again! Hopefully no one cries when they read this...maybe you'll cry because it's awful...?

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Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

This time will never come back around.

Dean.

I tossed in a bed to comfortable, the room was to quiet, harsh snores didn't fill it. I couldn't hear my brother flipping through a book. Dad wasn't perched on a bed, cleaning his gun with effortless ease. It was a painful reminder of how alone I was.

_The night has a way of making thing worse. Makes the thoughts that claim hearts breathe._

_I miss them._

_...But I'm still not going back..._

With a frustrated snarl, I threw the blankets of me and paced into the kitchen. I paused briefly to acknowledge the salt positioned at the door. I was running from the past but I stilled called to it for protection.

_Call them, Dean. Apologise. _

_...Coward..._

Rapid, self-degrading thoughts assaulted my tired mind. I turned away from the salt, leaning against the kitchen counter. Upon the table sat my phone, it seemed to taunt me as I watched it. This soulless piece of plastic was my only link to the family I'd left behind. The only way they could contact me. I could retrace my steps, mirror the tire tracks on the road and find my way to them. They didn't know where to start looking for me, I understood that. I'd been gone for nearly two weeks now, it was remarkable that I hadn't been found.

_They are looking...right?_

_...What if they've forgotten me?..._

_Face it, you spat some nasty words at your baby brother. Why would they want you back?_

I reached for the phone, cradling it between suddenly clammy hands. With batted breath, I switched it on, closing my eyes as the screen came alive. It barely had to wait a heartbeat before it sung at me. I peeked at the screen, astonished but pleased to see a single voicemail.

"I know you told me not to call, Dean, but I had too." Sam's voice caught in a sob, I'd never heard pain like this before in his voice. Guilt shook my core. "I miss you. It's not the same here. Dad's upset, he misses you too. I heard him talking to mum last night. He prayed for you just to call so he can talk to you. Bobby's guilty as hell for no reason. He's starting to regret letting you leave. I think I'm losing it, man. I need to know you're safe. There has to be some way we can salvage our relationship. We're brothers, Dean. We're supposed to stand together. You and me against the world." He dissolved into heart wrenching tears. I couldn't deny that I could feel a sob rising in my throat. Sam was in agony. "One call, Dean. Please."

I let the phone fall away from my ear, heard it clatter to the floor. Wordlessly, I stared at my hands, shocked to see them shake. There was tragic liquid on my cheeks, the tears of a wandering brother. My feet carried me to a kitchen chair, I sank boneless into it. Sam wept that Dad had prayed for a whisper from my lips. Did that mean he missed me? Or is it guilt? Suddenly I was hideously unsure, felt hopelessly naked. I hadn't realised I was biting my lip until there was a stab of pain from the healing tissue.

My brother was my world. I thrived on his affection. When I had lost that, I'd crashed and burned, unable to comprehend what I had done.

My dad was my rock. I relied on him to keep above the rising tide. When my support had failed, I drowned in the current of my nightmares.

They were my greatest strength and my crippling weakness.

...Did that mean they relied on me as well?

Was it possible that Sam's frequent calls meant my brother was falling without me to catch him?

Did my father's nightly prays to my dead mother mean he was drowning?

It was with a devastating clarity that I realised just how selfish I had been. In my heart I knew that they had hurt me and I had wounded them in return. This was just one big crucifying mess. But I knew I still needed space. I was still clinging tightly to the agony and betrayal I felt, unwilling to let it rest.

I glanced down at my phone.

_Call them, Dean. One phone call._

Fear struck deep inside me as I watched my fingers dance over the numbers. I barely had time to breathe before it was answered.

"Hello?" The hope in that sixteen year old boy's voice nearly brought me to my knees.

"Hey, Sammy." I didn't recognise the timid voice that left my mouth.

"Dean! Y-You called!"

"No shirt Sherlock." I smirked. There was a hysteric flare in Sam's laugh. "How are you, kid?"

"Better. Oh, God! I miss you so much!"

"Easy, Sam. I know."

"Are you OK? You're not hurt are you?"

"Why would I be?" I fingered the scab on my arm, guiltily.

_He doesn't know about Zack...right? _

"I don't know. Where are you staying?"

"...Around."

"That's not an answer, Dean."

"It's the only one I'm willing to give. I'd better go."

"NO! NO PLEASE, TALK TO ME! TALK TO DAD!"

"I can't, Sam."

"Dean." I put tears back in my brother's voice.

"This isn't forever, Sam."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Make sure Dad knows that too."

"I will."

I severed the connection before Sam could utter another word. I knew the conversation was too brief, it hadn't filled the hole inside me. There was still pain in Sam's voice and I hadn't the nerve to speak to Dad.

I still felt alone.

_You'll never be twenty again. Sam will never be sixteen again. You only live once. Am I wasting it?_

It was with a heavy heart, that I found myself back in bed. I let the dreams my twisted my created lull me into an uneasy sleep.

I avoided Nick the next morning, darting out of the room whenever he entered. I didn't want to know his story, I didn't want him to merge his history with mine. He had no right to know my pain. Nick thought he could share it but he couldn't.

I put the strain in the air. Tessa crept around silently, barely daring to meet my eyes. Nick tried to ignore the situation but I saw the concerned glanced he threw at me. I was clearing a table when it finally got to someone.

"For the love of God!" Randy's loud voice battered my distracted mind, I let the tray slam to the floor. I glared at the man before I bent down to retrieve the object. "Just apologise!"

"I didn't do anything." Tessa defended

"I don't care. Whoever did it apologise. Dean's only been here a week and already he's hiding in corners."

"I am not hiding! I'm cleaning." I shot back, waving the cloth and towel at him. "Big difference."

"And he's sulking. Nick what did you do?"

"I do not sulk!" Though I was aware my words were awfully close to a whine.

"It wasn't me." Nick insisted, I resisted the urge to glare at him.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I spat.

I moved around the dinner while they argued. My attention span dangerously short had resulted in me losing interest in the conversation. I stopped by a table, staring down at the dirty rag I was dragging across the table top.

_If you could see me now, Dad...would you look at me in disappointment? In your eyes...I'm a failure...because I ran from the hunt._

Oh, God!

Did I betray mum?

With a shove that was more difficult than it should have been, I hid the thought away, banishing it from my mind. It was then I was aware of someone hovering sheepishly by my side. I met Nick's nervous eyes and raised a curious eyebrow, noting the hostility that churned in my stomach.

"I'm sorry, Dean. It wasn't my intention to upset you." The sincerity in his voice nearly disarmed me but I clung desperately onto my fading anger.

I shrugged, dusting the cloth against a smear on the silver table. "Whatever."

"Please. I didn't mean it. The guys and I don't want you to leave." That brought me to a halt, my hand freezing.

_Leaving...? I never said anything about leaving._

I turned to glance at Tessa and Randy. There was undeniable fear in Tessa's eyes, Randy's mouth was set in a grim line. Tessa twisted a rag nervously in her fingers, Randy walked his fingers through his hair. When I flicked my gaze back to Nick, there was agonising guilt on his face. His hand moved around my wrist, maybe he thought he could prevent me leaving.

"Forgive me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. Yes, I forgive you. Stop with the eyes."

"Told you he was on my side!" Nick shot at Randy, Tessa squealed happily.

"Right...this chick-flick moment is going to make me puke."

I enjoyed the laughter that bubbled around me. I was satisfied when my laugh mixed with theirs.

_Though I'm not with you...don't forget me, Sam._

I stiffened, there was eyes in the darkness, watching my movements. I flung a glance out of my window, studying the night. I could see nothing but my unease didn't diminish. My knife was clasped in steady fingers. The blood of a hunter ran through my veins. Nobody taunted me so easily while I growled in frustration.

This is a battle I win on my own.

_Dean...don't ignore the warnings...don't get cocky. _

_..._

Sorry. It's terrible.


	13. I haven't forgotten you

Hello wonderful people! Thank you for your reviews, they're lovely.

kenzie17: You're the first person to nag me through an e-mail. Hope you like this chapter! You're awesome.

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Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

I haven't forgotten you.

John.

I stood by the kitchen window, my hands submersed in cooling water, fingers closing around dirty dishes. The Impala stood alone in the scrap yard, Dean wasn't with her. I was used to seeing Dean memorised by the greasy engine, or watching skilled hands caress the glossy body. I looked for him, wishing he would appear around the corner, swagger on his hips, smirk on his lips. But he never did. I wondered if he ever would again.

_I miss you son._

_What's happening in that head of yours?_

"Why didn't you take the Impala, Dean? What are you trying to tell me?" I whispered.

But no one answered. My world was hauntingly smaller, quieter without him. There was a lingering feeling of hopelessness swirling in my gut. I pulled my hands out of the water, dragging a towel across them and sighed.

"It's been two weeks, Dean. Come home." I begged and instantly realised I wasn't supposed to do that. But I sensed some hidden part of me losing the battle, preparing to fall to it's knees and beg for his return.

"John? You OK?" Bobby asked, stepping into the kitchen.

"Yeah."

Bobby nodded, reaching into the sink to pull out the dishes and cutlery. We stood in silence, gazing out over the yard. There was no noise, Sam wasn't researching, mumbling gently under his breath. Dean wasn't prowling, humming softly, music blaring. I wasn't used to the silence, my boys always bickered, they were always moving. Now Sam was like a ghost and Dean wasn't here.

"Where do you think he is, Bobby?" I asked, lowering my gaze to my hands.

"I don't know, John. I wish I did."

"He's...he's all right, isn't he?"

"...sure." I tried to ignore his pause even though it barely lasted a heartbeat. "He's Dean. When isn't he all right?"

_These last few months...he hasn't been all right..._

"Am I a bad father?"

Bobby swung his gaze to me but I couldn't look at him. I didn't want him to see the venerability flowing through me. A sigh left Bobby's mouth as he leant forward on his hands.

"There's no such thing as a perfect father, John. You're raising your boys on a hunter's life. You're doing the best you can."

"But why did he leave?"

"Because he needed to. He's a young man who wants to take on the world. You must understand."

"I hurt him."

"You did. But Sam and I aren't innocent either."

"Sam's just a child. We're adults, we should know better."

Bobby nodded. "We know better now. I believe he will come back to us. But we have to be patient."

"I know."

"It's hard, John. Hell knows I miss that kid. But it can only get better, right?"

"I hope you don't mind us crashing here."

"Don't be an idiot. I love those Idgit sons of yours. Stay until this mess is sorted out."

I nodded mutely, ignoring the dread of a father swirling deep inside me. I wanted my son by my side, my rock and consistent companion. I needed a chance to make things right, to heal the damage my neglect had caused.

"Dad? Uh…" I turned tired eyes to Sam, watching him hover in the doorway.

"What is it?"

He ran his tongue over his lips, I didn't understand the emotions I caught on his face. "Dean called."

My knees threatened to buckle, relief rushed through me. "When?"

"Just now."

"Sam-."

"I tried to tell him to talk to you but he wouldn't listen to me. He hung up to soon. I'm sorry, I tried." Sam's words were nervous, rushed and it made no sense.

"Sam! Stop!" An order, quick instinctive and it worked on Sam for a rare moment. "Why are you apologising?"

"Because I couldn't get him to talk to you. I think I frightened him when I suggested it. I pushed to hard."

"You didn't, Sam." Bobby assured.

"He's right. You know Dean, he's flighty when he's nervous. I doubt you would have been able to keep him long." I reminded, Sam visibly relaxed. "What did he say?"

"That he's Ok."

"Is that it? He didn't say where he was?"

"He said he was 'around'. Whatever that means."

I stifled a sigh. Dean was still guarded, the ice surrounding him hadn't melted. But he was thawing.

_Do I see an end to this madness? _

_Or are you playing to break me down?_

"He told me it wasn't forever."

_Would you be cruel enough to give your brother hope and steal it away? No, not you._

_I hope you mean this, Dean._

Sam flashed uncertain eyes to me, I squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. Bobby smiled slightly beside us and walked out of the room.

It took me by surprise when Sam breached the distance between us, closing thin arms around my chest. My hands steadied him as he stumbled slightly at the impact, before closing gently over his shoulders.

"Sam?"

Sam read something in my voice, sensed something in my body that he didn't like. "I'm sorry! I just needed it." He ripped himself away from me.

I understood. He wanted reassurance, needed comfort and Dean wasn't there. I reached out, snagging his wrists and pulling him back against my body. He stiffened, I felt surprise flicker through him. He relaxed against me, pushing his face into my chest, hiding in me.

"It's all right, son. I don't mind."

My words were permission, I felt subtle sobs shake his shoulders. He wept silently, hiding his tears in my shirt.

"Sammy." I whispered in hushed agony. "It'll be OK. Don't cry."

But he didn't stop. He needed to cry, wanted someone else to hold him strong. Last month I'd have pushed him away, scolded his weakness but Dean had changed me. He'd showed me where I was wrong. Now, I was only glad Sam wasn't crying in darkness. I knew that if I held him high, kept his head above the current of damnation, I could save him. I could be the father he needed me to be.

"It's all right, son. Things are just a little crazy right now, but they'll get better. Remember, Dean's alive and he isn't missing. He's safe and he called to let us know." I spoke my words into his hair.

"I'm sorry, Dad. Weak, I know."

_No…Oh, God. Did I do this to you?_

"No. You're not weak. No, Sammy, no."

He fisted my shirt tighter, sobs increasing in noise and ferocity. I'd never stood and listened to Sam crying before, each tear that fell broke me apart. I could do nothing but hold my boy together as the past few weeks caught up with him. It's been years since I held Sam, I was slowly realising that I was losing him as well. My lose hug, slipped into an embrace.

When Dean comes home, I'm going to hold him as he cries. I'm not going to let him hide behind his walls. And in return, I'll tear down my shields. I'll tell Dean how much I love him.

And together…Sam and I…we'll stop the arguments. We'll work to keep him with us.

A violent sob jerked Sam's shoulders and brought my attention back to him. It was my body that kept him standing, supporting his trembling legs. I moved toward the couch, gently tugging Sam with me. I caught a glimpse of his blood shot eyes and tear stained face, saw the agony etched onto it. The cushions bent under my weight as I sat and folded Sam against me. He didn't fight me, he just went limp across my chest.

_I need this too, Sam. I need to know you're there._

He pressed his face into my neck, inhaling greedily, seeking comfort in me. I carded my fingers through his hair, trying to remember the last time I had seen a boy in the hunter. Sam's sobs faded into hiccups and shaky breaths.

"I'll fix this, Sam. You'll see. Somehow. I'm bringing Dean home."

Safe and warm in my arms, Sam slipped into sleep.

Where was, Dean as we slept safe? Was there a roof over his head? Was there someone beside him? Did they even see him breaking?

When dreams called to me, I didn't deny them and I followed Sam to slumber. The hunter in me didn't stir once, content to be a father once again.


	14. When Heaven beckons

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Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

P.S. Does this chapter come too soon?

….

A Soldier's Last Stand.

When Heaven beckons.

Dean.

"Man, I hate this truck. I want the Impala." I whined, glaring at the dashboard and roughly adjusting the seat. "This car is just rust, hope no chicks see me in this."

I was trying to push my family away, hide anything that reminded me of the past. But driving down a dusty road, unfamiliar wheels spinning under me and my hands clamped around a stranger's steering wheel, I missed the Impala. I missed the comfort she brought me, I wanted the memories her steel frame held.

I sighed. "Not the same. You don't even have a radio."

The silence was strange, my life had melded with the unnatural lack of noise. It put me on edge, brought out the predator in me and there was no one who had my back. There was no one to catch me if I fell.

_But…no one's been there for years…_

I brought the car of the road, the bulky body groaning under me and turned into Nick's Diner. Flipping of the ignition and pocketing the keys, I reached into the seat beside me, pulling the bag thin bag toward me. Clutching it tightly I stepped out of the car and closed the door behind me. Nick grinned as I entered the Diner, humming under my breath.

"Morning, kiddo!" He greeted. I nodded in response, sliding my coat of my shoulders and throwing in onto the counter. "Talkative mood."

"Bite me." I snapped, pushing the bag into Tessa's hands. She giggled and disappeared into the kitchen.

He laughed, throwing his head back in mirth. I scowled at him, folding my arms across my chest, annoyance flickering deep inside.

"Nicholas!" Randy bellowed from deep inside the kitchen. Nick flinched and my scowl slipped into a smirk. "Leave that kid alone!"

"Eat me."

"Mature, Nicky." I grinned.

Nick threw a pen in my direction, it bounced of my head before rolling under a table. I rolled my eyes as Tessa bounded out of the kitchen. She wrapped slender, pale arms around my waist, pressing her face against my chest. A moment of shock passed through me before my arms moved to embrace her lightly.

_You're making me human. Less of a hunter and more of a man. You and Nick. You don't even realise what you're doing to me. You'll never realise how grateful I am._

"Hi, Dean. Sleep well?"

"No. You weren't in my bed." Tessa flushed and slapped me playfully across the chest. Nick groaned behind me, I felt a cocky grin on my face. She pulled away from me, a loving sparkle in her eyes. "How did you sleep, Princess?"

"All the better for not having you in my bed, baby."

I clutched my heart, fluttering my hand over my head. "Oh! You wound me! Oh! How could you be so insensitive?"

Tessa laughed again, catching my wayward hand, rolling her eyes. "You think you're beautiful, don't you?"

"I know I am." I responded

Tessa's lips were at my ear. "Honey, Nick's hotter than you."

I felt my mouth drop, I stared at her wide eyed while Nick roared with mirth. Tessa stood, her hand still clutching mine and waited. "You really know how to kick a man when he's down."

Nick wrapped his arms over my shoulders, amusement in his eyes. "Ah, Dean. We still love you."

"And right there is where I end this conversation." I slipped out from their grip, turning toward the door. I flipped the sign to open and glanced back at them. "Nicky, you don't get one piece of this fine body."

My laughter was louder than theirs, rising upward and stretching over the lonely years.

"Hello there, ma'am. What can I get you?" She raised a sculptured eyebrow, shooting an appreciative glance over me. I read the lust in her eyes with a smirk. "Beside me."

"Pie. Strawberry."

"Ah, good choice." I congratulated. "Be back soon."

I jumped when her hand touched my backside forcefully. Purple painted nails ran through ebony locks and I sent her a flirtatious, seductive smirk. It was still on my face when I passed the order to Nick.

"You're something else, Dean. Remember to do your job." Nick scolded.

"Yes, sir!" I saluted.

Turning back to the bustling people, I caught her eye again and she beckoned me. I glanced around, everyone was content with their food, their partners and children. I sauntered over to her, slinking down into the chair opposite her.

"Nikki." She extended her hand.

I clasped slender fingers. "Dean."

Her hand tightened on mine, her free fingers ran over the pale skin of my wrist. Holding hazel eyes to mine, she trailed her fingers further up my arm. I reached over to dust my fingertips over her cheeks.

"DEAN! WORK NOW!" Nick ordered. "God! Get your mind out of the gutter, boy and do your job."

I jumped away from Nikki, ripping my arm from her grip. A haunted memory sang to me, I felt my heart pound. Nikki slipped a piece of paper over to me, I stuffed it in my pocket and hurried over to a nearby table. I couldn't look at Nick when I pushed the slip of crumpled note into his hands. I slunk away from Nick, aware I was cowering before him but suddenly so afraid. I knew the past was invading on the present but I submitted to it. At the next table I approached, an elderly couple smiled up at me, I offered a whisper of a smile.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" The woman asked. "You look pale."

_A mother. A grandmother. Family I don't have._

…_Oh God! I miss you all so much!..._

_Help me! Save me! Catch me! I think I'm falling._

"I'm fine. What can I get ya?"

"Two coffees, please."

I nodded, mechanically jotting down the words and pressing it into the waiting hand at the window. Minutes later, Tessa's gentle arms were wrapped around my chest and her lips were at the nape of my neck. Her embrace was comforting and to my disbelief I couldn't fight her.

"Don't mind Nick, Dean. He's stressed. Are you OK?"

"I'm fine."

_A lie. A curse. A wall against the world._

_Crash. Burn. Tumble to earth without my wings._

_Why aren't you here when I need you?_

"If you say so." Her arms tightened briefly once and she let go.

She didn't realise that she'd held me together in that one moment.

Hours later, as the last customer drifted out, Nick turned to me, regret and sadness in his eyes. He reached out a hand and clamped it gently to my forearm.

"I am so sorry, kiddo. I didn't mean it." He was pleading with me for understanding, wanting forgiveness. And like a fool I could give it. But I held it in and offered him a shrug.

"Sure, man. Whatever."

"I'm serious. I didn't mean it."

"I said all right, Nick." I snapped, tugging my jacket over my shoulders.

"You don't mean it."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I'm sorry."

I nodded, patting down my pockets for my phone before reaching around the counter to snatch it up. I heard the door close gently as Nick retreated into the evening. I followed his retreating figure through the window. A feminine hand ran across my shoulder blade, easing away tension knots forming.

"Why did you do that? He was sorry." Tessa questioned

"Giving people a second chance gives them the opportunity to hurt you."

"Not us, Dean. Learn to trust."

I shrugged her hand away and heard her sigh. Moments later her heels clicked against the floor and the door clicked.

"I'm sorry guys. I'm just so messed up." I whispered. "I trust you more than you realise."

I headed for the stairs, my shoulders weighed down with confusion and misery. It was all catching up with me. The pain. The loneliness and confusion.

A squeal of breaks echoed around me.

"NICK! NO!" Tessa screamed.

A fear ran through me and I was sprinting for the door. I barely heard it slam shut behind me as I dashed toward Nick and Tessa. In the distance I saw a car speed away, Tessa crouched on the gum stained pavement, hands hovering over a motionless form. I bit back a shout and cried silently for a miracle.

Nick.

I fell to my knees beside her, trained eyes sweeping over him, hunting out injuries and not finding blood. I touched his forehead and felt him stir. Foggy eyes stared up at me, recognition in them.

"Nick?" Tessa's voice was a horrified whisper. Something had stolen my voice. I heard tears in hers.

"Son of a bitch." He groaned. "Bastard." He started to push himself up, Tessa placed a restraining hand on him.

"Wow, stay down. We should call an ambulance." She turned to me. But I couldn't answer. My mind was frozen in the fear.

"I don't need an ambulance. I'm not hurt."

"You were just hit by a car!" Tessa objected

"I'm fine." With those words, Nick snapped me out of my trance.

"Let me look." I ordered softly.

Nick's surprised eyes studied mine, I smiled reassuringly at him. Confidently, I ran my hands over his limbs, finding no breaks, he didn't cry out in pain.

"It missed me. I think I hit my head on the road." He confessed.

I reached for his head, fingering the back of it, feeling my hands come away slick with blood.

"We should get you to a hospital." I mumbled, biting the inside of my lip.

"No! No hospitals!" He struggled wildly.

"Not hospitals, all right. Tessa, help me get him inside." She nodded and slipped her hands under Nick's arms.

Groaning she pulled him up and I tugged his arm over my shoulders, balancing the weight. Nick moaned, stumbling, Tessa frowned by stayed silent. Shouldering the door open, we moved Nick inside.

"Randy!" Tessa summoned. Seconds later he was by our side.

"Jesus. What happened?"

"Car happened." She answered, gently pushing Nick into a chair.

"Look at me, Nick." I demanded. Chocolate eyes swung to mine. "He isn't concussed. Do you hurt anywhere? Apart from your head."

"No. I don't think they meant to hurt me. Just scare."

Tessa settled a bowl of water and towels beside me. "This is becoming a regular occurrence." I commented.

They laughed, Nick's was weaker but something loosened in my chest. I dabbed at the blooded wound on his head.

"Stiches?" Randy asked.

"No. It should be all right. Just keep an eye on him."

"I'll grab some painkillers." Randy offered.

Tessa mumbled something about fresh towels and hurried away. Nick sighed, my gaze leapt to him, searching for pain. He shook his head.

"I'm OK, Kiddo. What's wrong with you?"

I frowned. "Nothing. You're hurt."

"Barely. Dean, trust me. What's wrong?"

I hung my head, ashamed of the swirling emotions inside me. Nick's hand was a comforting pressure on my shoulder.

"Dean?"

"I thought you were dead."

"What?"

"Tessa screamed. And I saw you, lying there. And I really thought you were dead."

_Dead because I wasn't strong enough._

_Dead because I was selfish and wouldn't accept and apology. _

_Dead because I'm not enough._

….MY FAULT!...

"Oh, Kiddo. I'm all right." Nick slipped of the chair, to tug me into his arms. I let him, finally, someone supported me. Held me far enough above the ground even with my shattered grace. But even though I hid my face, I couldn't cry.

Somewhere inside…I had forgotten how.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

The increase of his embrace told me I was forgiven.

Later that night, death hung over me. I tasted it in the food I ate and it turned the air stale around me.

I could have lost Nick tonight. I call myself a hunter but people continue to get hurt.

Sam could be hurt, lying somewhere in a ditch without me. Did Sam and dad argue with me gone? Did they weep at my departure or did they rejoice that they were free? I didn't know. I sunk to the floor with my head in my hands.

I can't be a hunter. I didn't save Nick today. I brought Zack down on them.

_SAMMY! TELL ME WHAT TO DO?_

…_Do you still love me?...Even though I left you?_

_Something's wrong. Someone's watching me. I don't feel safe._

My phone was in my hands, Sam's number flashing on the screen. A string of numbers printed on the screen.

Coordinates. Dad would understand. It gave me time. Time to decide if I should stay. Or if I should run again.

And just like that, I surrendered my freedom.

I can't be a hunter. I'm not strong enough. I bring shame. Dad would be so disappointed.

"I'm so sorry."

It was a fatal flaw in my reasoning that made me destroy the salt line.

There was too much smoke. It snaked down my throat, drawing harsh, hacking coughs out. It got in my eyes, bringing startled, pained tears to them. I pulled my shirt collar up to my mouth, hoping to dilute the smokes effect but I only coughed harder.

_I can't see anything..._

_Oh, God! I'm going to die!_

The smoke had suddenly taken a orange glow and it was unpleasantly hot. The flames had reached the stairs, climbing up them like a nightmare. Frightened, I stumbled backward, slamming the door shut. A cough jarred my insides, sending sharp pain around me. I lurched for the window, sighing in relief when my fingers found the cool glass. I fumbled with the lock but it wouldn't move. Confused, I tried again but couldn't open it.

"No...C'mon...open, please..." It was raw panicked sob that left my throat.

Nothing.

I was cornered, there was no way out. I was going to burn. I was going to die...tonight...in this building. They'd find a charred, deformed corpse in the morning and nobody would know it was me. I swung a fist at the window and cursed my fate.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP!"

The song of the flames swallowed my words. The heat was unbearable, the smoke was too thick and the flames were to close. The building groaned and I couldn't hold back a scream. The building was crumbling around me, falling with me inside it.

_I'm not getting out of this._

I reached for my phone, my fingers clumsy and trembling. I couldn't focus, the numbers danced on the screen. I dialled the number I knew so well...the one I had vowed never to ring again.

"Dean?"

The relief at hearing Dad's voice brought a blood tinted cough to my lips. Dad was happy, I hadn't heard that tone for years. Was it my call that alighted that passion in his again? For the first time since I left, my father was my life raft. The only one who could save me. But he'd never reach me. I'd burn before the night was through. I gasped, clutching at my throat, there wasn't enough air.

"...D-Dad... can't...breathe..."

"Dean? What's wrong, son? ASNWER ME, DEAN!"

"...F-Fire...can't get out..."

My legs gave way beneath me, I groaned when my body hit the floor. The flames were caressing the door, I could see their deadly glow. I felt my mind start to shut down, my body panicked in response. But the gasps only pulled more smoke into my body, the heat blistered my throat.

"Yes you can. Get to the window, Dean."

"Locked... Fire's at the door..."

"Where are you, Dean? TELL ME!"

"N-Nick's Diner...Dad! The...fire's too close! "A raw, death cough hacked out of my system. I whimpered as I chocked down more smoke.

"Where's Nick's Diner?"

"C-coordinates."

"I got them. Get out, Dean! Now!"

"...C-Can't...T-tell Sammy I'm sorry..."

"Don't do this. Please, don't." Dad's voice was chocked with tears and I didn't understand. Why would dad be crying? He doesn't cry?

_Is it because I'm dying?_

"...I'm sorry I left...didn't mean what...I said...sorry..."

"It's fine. We're not angry. Concentrate on getting yourself out. That's all we ask."

The flames had destroyed the door and suddenly they were all I could see. Their deadly waltz increased and they swept toward me, reaching hungrily for me. I recoiled from the heat, brining my hands up to my face. I could suddenly feel tears that had previously gone unnoticed.

_Time's up..._

"...Daddy...I'm scared..."

_...All I wanted was to live..._

The flames licked my leg, agonising pain clawed around my body. My jeans seared, the material curling and blackening. Weakly, I kicked at the fire, trying to fight it back in the only way I knew how. But my strength was failing and I could not beat an element, punches would only damage me. The skin of my leg blistered. I didn't know I could hurt this bad. I didn't think I would die alone. I wanted to go down standing proud, not venerable and terrified. I wanted my family around me when the end came. I didn't want to feel my body eaten by flames.

_I understand now mum...I really do...I'm sorry you died like this..._

There's only so much pain a body can take before it gives up. I was slipping, too far and much too fast. There wasn't anything for me to hang onto. Already the pain was numbing, I couldn't feel the flames that ate away at my skin. I could taste my death, could understand my end. But could not reach Sam, would never see him again.

_Sammy...I'm so sorry...I don't want to die...Please...save me...I love you..._

He would not answer. He would never know that my last thoughts were off him. He would only ever see a corpse that would not resemble his brother.

I screamed.

"DEAN!"

.

.

.

Fire consumes all.

...

...How many fans have I just lost?...

Don't kill me!


	15. Lord, wake me up

What can I say?

I am hurt that there are those who have condemned my work before it is even halfway. Granted, it is only a few of you but it is still horrible to read reviews where people are threatening to stop reading my work. There is no character death warning in the summary because there are no character deaths! It is a terrible blow when an author realises the fans she thought were loyal aren't. I had not wanted to start my next chapter with an author's note like this but I felt the need to defend myself. I apologise if it offends anyone else.

To those of you who only give me constructive criticism and support thank you for continuing to read my work. I hope the rest of the story does not disappoint.

Forgive any grammatical mistakes you have found and probably will continue to.

Bible quote: Exodus 20:5- correct me if I'm wrong.

Keep happy!

Review if you still love me.

Love freely given to you!

…

A Soldier's Last Stand.

Lord, wake me up.

John.

Parents are supposed to outlive their children. Mary did. I always thought I would. I never wanted to know one of my sons had died. Slipped away alone and venerable. I never wanted to know.

_You have to be alive, Dean. You can't not be. You're supposed to watch me grow old. You're supposed to see Sam through his life. _

_I need you to be alive. Please say you're alive._

It's not real._ Don't be real._ It's not real._ I heard you scream. _It's not real._ I thought you'd be home. _It's not real._ Please, don't be real. _It's not real._ I'm living a waking nightmare. _It's not real._ Wake me up._ It's not real. _Dean? _Not real. _What do I tell Sam? _It's not real. I know it's not. _Why aren't you answering me? _Not real._ I'll give anything for it not to be real. _Please…_DEAN!_

"DEAN WINCHESTER! ANSWER ME, BOY!" I didn't recognise the voice that barked the order. So shocked and scared.

Only silence trickled down the phone, digging its fingers into my mind and squeezing my heart. I clenched the phone in my hand, hearing the plastic crunch alarmingly but not caring. He wasn't answering. There was no frenzied breathing or the crackle of flames.

Just silence.

_A silence that should only exist in death. _NO! I WON'T BELIEVE IT!

His scream. It'll exist inside me until my last breath. Deep inside me, it will fester, turn my mind septic until I'm poisoned. In my nightmares, he'll scream as flesh bubbles and life is stripped away. In conscious moments, that scream will whisper, quiet but never silent. Eventually, I'd be driven to my knees, to bow before the ghost of my son.

_How do I move on a second time? Tell me, how do I convince Sam to live without his brother?_

"Dean, please. Son, answer me." I begged. Caught in the panic, I hadn't realised that the wall was supporting my weight until I slid down it. It didn't occur to me to notice that a traitors tremble was shaking my frame. "Dean? C'mon, kid. Where are you?"

When the silence succeeded in invading my mind, I let the phone clatter to the floor. I stared at it, needing to understand but unsure if I wanted too. The screen flashed once and fell to darkness as the phone disconnected. I didn't move from the floor, sometime during the shrieking emotions, I'd pulled my knees up to my chest. Another tremble forced its way around my body and I hid my face away.

_Bad father. Bad father. Bad…_

…_Dean called me daddy…Oh, he sounded so frightened…I wasn't there…I failed him…_

_What if Yellow-Eyes came for him?_

"John? What's happened?" Bobby's rough voice could barely reach me. I shrugged away his hand when it landed on my shoulder and couldn't find my voice.

_Dean's dead. Dean's gone. Dean burned. _

"Dad? Are you OK?" _A child. My child. Sam. Oh, Sammy._ _You don't have an older brother anymore and I don't know how to tell you._

Sam's worried face hovered anxiously in front of mine. Behind him, Bobby's eyes were cautious, peering into corners, seeking out monsters .I couldn't tell him that the danger wasn't here and it wasn't too us. A gentle hand on my arm, swung my attention back around to Sam. I saw his mind whirl, saw intelligence in expressive eyes and knew I wouldn't have to tell him. He'd work it out and then lose a bit of himself every day.

"John? What is it?"

"Dean…he...he's…"

"He's what? Dad? Dean's what?" The comforting fingers had turned panicked, pinching my skin as he grasped my arms, fear ruling over logic. "TELL ME!"

I couldn't look at him. I couldn't put Dean's demise into words. I couldn't let it be so final. I couldn't give up on Dean until his broken body was in my arms. Until I could see his empty corpse, I had to believe that he was still alive.

I pushed myself to my feet, Sam stumbled backward and Bobby straightened. A strength that had always been a darkness, breathed inside me. A being born of grief and anger stretched its embrace around the grieving father my mind had become. For in death, the hunter thrived and stepped into the world. I would not allow myself to stop until I'd seen my son. When I spoke, my mind was clear and I felt a purpose in my soul again.

_Find Dean, John. Bring him home._

"Dean's hurt." I let part of the truth slip out. No matter the outcome, Dean would be hurt. Burnt and suffering. Sam's eyes darkened in raw terror and he jumped to his feet. The perfect solider when his brother was in peril. "Sam, get together the first aid kit. Bobby, Dean gave me coordinates. Find him." Sam sprinted away, slipping in his haste. With poorly veiled concern, Bobby took the phone of me and headed toward the kitchen.

_I will see you again, Dean. In some way. Some place. Be it in the mortal world or the world where souls reside. We will meet again._

_But…you're not dead yet._

_I'm coming for you, son. Wait for me._

Sam hurried back into the kitchen, arms clutching the first aid kit. He lifted up his arm, showing me a bag suspended from his wrist. I raised a curious eyebrow as he set them both on the table.

"Dean restocked the first aid kit. I guess he never put them in." He sighed regretfully and emptied the contents onto the table. I watched rolls of bandages bounce across the table and packets of painkillers rustle. Methodically, carefully, Sam packed them into the first aid kit. He reached deeper into the kit and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Scooping up a lose pen, he ticked against the scribbled letters. Catching my eye, he said one word. "Dean."

_Oh, Dean. You really were too good to be true. Perfect. A son. A brother. A…Solider…Why didn't I notice?_

"John! Sam! Dean's in AutumDale. Drive fast and don't stop and you can be there in the morning." Bobby called.

I nodded, Sam snatched up the kit and headed for the door. But he paused and span around, his eyes snapping around the room.

"Sam? What are you looking for?"

"Jacket. Where's his jacket?"

Dragging an impatient gaze around the room, I spotted the worn leather jacket placed lovingly on the chair. I crossed to it quickly, picking it up gently, suddenly afraid it would break and handed it to Sam. He cradled it in his arms, his strength and security. His link to his injured, missing, frightened, angry, broken brother.

"He'll be cold." Sam's response was logical, something he thought I wanted to hear. But I didn't miss the unspoken words.

_I understand, Sam. I really do. But I can't hold a jacket. Even one of Dean's. It's just an imitation. I need him._

"Sam, take this." Bobby pushed his own first aid kit into Sam's unresisting arms. Sam nodded and I saw him slowly understand the situation

"We'll be in touch, Bobby."

"Take care."

I didn't say goodbye. I didn't let myself say another farewell. Not when I feared a permanent one was on the horizon.

It felt hopelessly wrong to be in the Impala without Dean. His tapes were on the floor, in the compartment and under our feet. Never my music. I'd given them freely to Dean. Allowed him to hold onto them because I saw he loved them. Given him control of the Impala because he'd take better care of her than I ever would. I threw a glance at the passenger seat, Sam sat beside me, staring out of the window. His leg bounced impatiently, his fists clenched on his thighs. Every so often he flung a look at the clock or fumbled for the phone. We didn't speak. There wasn't anything to be said. We both knew that Dean had called for us out of panic and pain. He feared his death. He was terrified of the hell that fire brought.

_Oh, Mary. Our boy paid for my crimes in fire. _

_The sins of the father shall be visited upon the son._

_I forced him away when I could have held him close. _

_I've killed him._

_Even if he does survive…what injuries will he have? How scarred is my boy? How much of Dean did the fire burn away?_

"Dad?"

I didn't take my eyes of the road but I felt Sam's cautious gaze on my face. "Yes?"

"What did Dean say when he called?"

"…I'd rather not say."

"No, you have to tell me. I need to know what I'm going to find."

"We're going to find, Dean. Can't you be content with that?"

"What condition is he in? Tell me!"

"No."

"I need to know. Don't try to protect me. He's my brother."

"And he's my son, Sam."

"Funny way of showing it. What happened to him?"

I sighed, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Are you sure you want to know, Sam? Can't you just accept that he's hurt?"

"I need to know how hurt he is, Dad. If I know I can help him. I can help you." My logical son. Using his mind against me. But Dean is in his heart. He's hurting me to save Dean.

"All right, Sam. I don't know how badly hurt he is. I'm not completely sure what happened. There was a fire." I heard Sam's sharp intake of breath and wished I could take away the pain. " When Dean called he was trapped. He said the windows were locked and I don't think he could get to the door. He was hurt. He told me to come and get him. He wanted you to know that he was sorry, Sam. He insisted that you knew he was sorry that he left." Sam swallowed painfully, eyes sparking with tears, his lower lip trembling. I saw guilt in his eyes. "Don't do that, Sam. You're not to blame."

"He was saying goodbye. Apologising to us was goodbye. Oh, God! He's not dead. Promise me he isn't dead!"

"I can't, Sam. I can't promise what I don't know. You understand don't you?"

"Yes. I do. I'm sorry, it wasn't fair to ask."

"It's fine, Sam. I want reassurance too."

"I want him back, Dad."

"I know, Sam. I do too."

"I love him, Dad."

I nodded wordlessly and felt my heart chip and fracture. Because I looked at Sam. And I knew he'd worked it out. He understood the possibility that we were driving toward Dean's body.

With haunted silence, we stepped out of the car and stared at the charred shell of the Diner. The air was polluted by smoke and sweat, I could hardly dare to breathe it. The roof of the building had collapsed in on itself, crashing into the space below it. People gathered the building, shaking head, whispering words I couldn't hear. Beside me, Sam stifled a sob, pressing his knuckle against his mouth. I charged forward, fear moving my body before my mind could engage.

"DEAN! DEAN! TALK TO ME!" I cried, Sam followed in my footsteps.

"Dean! Please, where are you! Answer us!" Sam begged. "DEAN! BIG BROTHER, WHERE ARE YOU?"

"WHERE'S MY SON?"

_Why are you looking at me like that? What do you know?_

"DEAN! PLEASE!"

_Stop looking at me like that. I don't need your pity. Just tell me where my son is._

"WHERE ARE YOU? DEAN? C'MON!"

_Answer your brother, Dean. Don't make him cry._

I grasped a girl with hair like sunlight and span her around to me. Her face was tear stained, mascara streaked across her cheeks, distorting a pretty face.

"Please, miss. The fire…where's my son?"

"Your son?" Recognition flashed in her eyes, horror dawned on her face. "Oh…your son…fire…"

Sam stepped forward, reached out to take a tight grasp on slender hands and stared into her eyes. "Have you seen my brother?"

"Tessa?" An young man stepped forward, coffee eyes searching out the girl's face. She shook her head and whispered inaudible words. He looked to me for answers and his eyes were raw, grief and anger swirling in their depths. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I'm looking for my son. He called me. Where is he?"

"W-Who is your son?" Terror forced a stutter into his voice.

"Dean." Sam answered

Tessa gasped, her hands flying to her lips and she turned into the man's chest.

"You son had a leather jacket?" I could barely hear his voice.

"Yes." My voice was a mournful whisper.

"Oh God. Um…Sir…Dean was in the fire. We…we couldn't get to him…They put the …body…down over there." He pointed shakily to our left. To the police surrounding a tent and the horror inside it.

"I need to see him." Sam declared and sprinted toward the tent.

"NO! SAM!"

_Don't look Sam. He's gone. Burnt. Black. Charred. Dead. _

_Oh, my poor baby. My beautiful, perfect boy. _

_Lord, wake me up._

….

READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE BEFORE REVIEWING!


	16. I don't believe you're gone

Hello lovely people! I'm sorry about the lateness of this chapter. This chapter has been impossibly hard to write but I wanted to makes sure this was reasonable. Thank you for your reviews, I'm sorry I moaned at you. I'm not too happy with this but I hope you enjoy it.

For the rest of this story, please bear in mind that you know something Sam and John don't. You know Dean is relatively OK. They don't.

WARNING! BURNT BODY!

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

….

A Soldier's Last Stand.

I don't believe you're gone.

Sam.

_I'm sorry. Please don't be dead. I'm sorry. _

I know it's not him in there. Surrounded by the tent and solemn faced men. I span on my heel and sprinted toward the tent. Dad yelled out behind me, summoning be back to his side. But I didn't listen. I heard his footsteps, pounding on the tarmac road. I ran harder, faster away from Dad and toward a nightmare.

_You're wrong, Dad. You wait and Dean will prove you wrong. You'll see._

I hesitated outside the plastic, afraid on the terror inside but needing to know. Still, it wasn't until Dad was panting by my side that I reached out to draw it back. Dad's calloused hand stopped mine and I let him part the plastic.

"Sir…Are you sure you want to see him?" The chocolate eyed man was back, fidgeting nervously. Tessa hovered behind him, tear tainted gaze fixed on her trembling hands. "I'm not sure you should."

"I need to see my son. Sam needs to see his brother." Despite the broken quality, Dad's voice couldn't be argued with.

Tessa threw me a worried glance but remained silence. Dad turned away from the pair, head held high but with shaking hands. I spared them a reassuring smile and hurried after Dad. The plastic slapped my face, sending a jolt of pain down my cheek. Peering around Dad, I stared down at the body at my feet.

Dad howled. A broken cry wrenched from his soul.

I felt the remains of lunch slide up my throat, I turned away to expel it from my system. I didn't care that I'd lost control in front of sympathetic police. The smell of the vomit forced me away from it and my gaze jerked back to the body. Dad had moved, he was crouched beside the body, shoulder heaving with restrained sobs. I bent down beside him, pressing my side against his for comfort. I couldn't recognise the face but I knew it was male. The perfect skin had been hideously disfigured, pale skin charred and black. Lifting away from the bones and curling in places. The figure's hair had burnt away, eyebrows gone as well. The smell of scorched skin was like a poison. I knew it would never leave me.

_How is this my brother? This isn't my brother?_

But then I recognised the perfect jacket the corpse wore. The fire hadn't destroyed it and it remained untouched by smoke. It was cruel, Dean had burnt away in fire but his precious leather jacket hadn't been touched.

Frozen in that moment, I was suddenly sure that this would be the last memory I'd have of my brother.

He was gone. Died alone. I wasn't there.

_Please…bring him back…I'll do anything…_

_How do I carry on my life without you, Dean? How?_

A wail broke out around us, a high pitched keening that sent a shudder down my spine. I didn't understand what could make such a heartbroken noise. The longer I stared at Dean's ruined body the louder the keen became. Dad threw his arms around me, turning my face away from the destruction, pressing it against his shoulder.

"Ssh, Sammy, ssh. We don't know for sure it's him." But I could tell he didn't believe.

I sobbed into his shoulder, clinging to him with childish hands. He sheltered me in his arms as we sobbed in front of the broken body of my dead brother.

_I love you, Dean. I'm so sorry._

"It's all right, Sam." Dad soothed with useless words.

It'll never be all right again.

_Fix it, Dad. Fix it. Fix it. Fix it. Fix it._

I barely noticed when Dad pulled me away from Dean.

_Why is his coat so perfect?_

Time had no meaning as I sobbed in my grief but somehow we ended up in a comfortable restaurant. There wasn't any smile on the customers, there was disbelief and heartache in their eyes. People who I didn't know threw comforting, sympathetic glances at me. I shrank deeper into my chair.

"Who are you people?" Dad asked, addressing the chocolate eyed man and Tessa.

"My name's Nick Morgan and this is Tessa Silva. We're friends of Dean's…I mean we were friends of Dean's."

"You found him?"

Nick smiled fondly. "More like he found us. He turned up at the Diner a few weeks ago, made quiet and impression with my waitresses. He said he had time to hang around." Nick's laugh was bitter as he dropped his head to his hands.

"Nick got into a fight with one of the locals. Zack May, real nasty piece of work. Anyway, Dean broke the fight up and insisted on staying here. Nick gave him a job and the apartment above the Diner." Though Tessa appeared to have recovered, I saw the weak guard her tears were under. "I can't believe he's gone."

_You always shone so bright. How can you be dead?_

_I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye._

Dad asked them another question and I pushed away from the table. I stood on shaky legs, staggering toward the door.

"Where are you going, Sam?"

I shrugged.

_Anywhere. Away. Not here. To find home. To stop the tears. Stop the pain. Anywhere._

Dad understood, he nodded and turned back to the grief stricken pair. I wandered away from them, toward the Impala. Reaching it, sank down beside it, drawing my knees up to my chest. I prayed for Dean, wished he'd walk around the corner and tell me he was still alive. That he'd gotten away and some poor soul had perished instead of him. But that didn't explain the jacket. Some deep part of me shuddered and ceased to breathe the minute I realised Dean was dead.

I'd lost half of my soul. Dean wasn't coming back.

Sitting alone in the dirt beside an ownerless car, I wept for my lost brother.

"Sam?" I didn't recognise the voice that called to me but I glanced up regardless.

"Nick?"

The smile he gave me was supposed to be warm but the muscles of his face barely moved. "Can I sit here?" I nodded and buried my head in my knees again. I felt Nick beside me, we sat in silence for minutes. I didn't know where he was but I was caught in my past. Before Dean fled and before he fell. "Your brother was an amazing guy. You should be proud of him."

"I am. So proud. I wish he was here to hear me say it."

"Sam-."

"He never knew. How could I have ignored him? I didn't mean too, didn't think I had. But I must have done."

"I'm not sure what Dean felt toward you and your father. He was angry and afraid but I don't know what off." He sighed. "He was proud of you. Every time he spoke about you, I knew he was missing you."

"I missed him. So much. He called me and told me he'd be home. That this…separation wasn't forever. Did he lie to me?"

"Dean couldn't predict the future, Sam. He didn't know the fire was going to happen. He didn't know he was going to die. He probably really thought he was coming home."

"Why did he have to die?"

"It was just his time."

I nodded again, accepting the worthless piece of comfort and Nick drifted away. I watched him go with weary eyes and saw him take Tessa into his arms. Dad appeared in my line of vision and pulled me gently to my feet.

"We need to call Bobby. He should know." But he didn't want to call. Neither of us did.

Still, he reached for his phone and his fingers tapped against the numbers. I stayed still and silent as a thousand emotions flickered across Dad's face.

"Hello, Bobby, it's John."

A muffled exclamation. Hope and fear in one.

"Listen, Bobby…we found Dean…he's…he's…" Dad's voice wobbled, he dragged a tired hand over his eyes.

Bobby yelled again, begging, pleading to know.

"Dean's dead."

Silence. Then one tiny word. _How?_

"He burnt."

I heard a cry I'd never heard before and Dad hung up. For a long moment, he didn't move, just stared at the plastic phone. Then he hurled it away, snarling and sobbing at the same time. It bounced against a rock and shattered but neither of us went to pick it up. Neither of us cared about a broken machine when our family could never be fixed.

"I want to look at the Diner." Dad declared and stalked away. I followed him.

I'd almost lost sight of Dad as he weaved through distraught people. I was momentarily impressed with the speed he possessed, yet he held none of the grace Dean had. Suddenly he stopped beside the wall of the Diner and bent down. A frown found his face and he beckoned me to him.

"Look, Sammy." Dad whispered.

I crouched down beside him, eyes widening. Blood. Crimson and fresh. I ran gentle fingers over it, inspecting my coated fingers.

"What's going on, Dad?"

"Wish I knew."

Footsteps alerted me to another person hovering timidly behind us. I turned, seeing Tessa twirling he fingers through her hair.

"Tessa?" I questioned.

"D-Did you find something, Sir?"

Dad nodded. "Blood. We think."

"The police will want to know. Um…see the thing is Sir…I've been told to come down here to say the Police would like to talk to you."

"Why?"

"They think it was arson. They think they've found who killed, Dean."

Revenge is like a drug. And already I was addicted.

…

Well?


	17. When Revenge becomes a disease

Hello lovely people! Thank you for your wonderful reviews. Well, here's the next chapter.

Keep happy and reviewing! Sorry about the time it takes between posts.

Much love!

Someone made a reference about Dean's jacket being referred to twice: The jacket Sam took was really more for comfort- The jacket on the body is Dean's leather jacket. But really…everyone has more than one jacket right?

Be fair but nice…I am SOOOOOOOO out of my depth with this chapter. Can you tell?

…

A Soldier's Last Stand.

When Revenge becomes a Disease. 

John.

Tessa's haunted, whispered words ignited a fire inside Sam. Something burst into life behind his eyes, a dark, broken force. Suddenly he wasn't my passionate youngest son. He was a hunter. He wanted blood. He needed someone to fall. I recognised the lust for violence that reflected in my heart. When Sam stood, drawing to his full height, Tessa shrank back.

_What do you see, girl? A broken brother or a pulsing hunter._

I lifted my body from the ground and Tessa recoiled further. I threw a glance at Sam, wincing at the blend of devastation and hatred in his eyes. But he never looked away from the blood smeared on the ground. A calculating mind danced through different reasons, different hopes. I could taste Sam's rage in the air, it pulsed around me. But compared to mine, it was an ember. The devastated fury was liquid in my veins, it coated my tongue, made my head pulse. The world around me was alive with my twisted, uncontrolled emotions. The eyes I turned to Tessa was that of a shattered man.

"Arson? Someone _murdered_ my son?" I spat.

"…It would appear so. Will you speak to the police, sir?"

"Who did this to Dean?" Sam questioned.

"I can't say, Sam. I'm sorry."

I stalked away from the girl who had sheltered my son and let my feet lead me to a nearby policemen. He was old, grey hair framing a weathered face. There was manufactured sympathy in grey eyes. It was his job to care about Dean but it didn't go deep, didn't touch his old heart. His care and concern simmered just below the surface, a perfect façade to an imperfect job. He walked slowly up to me, a grim frown marring his features. I clasped the hand extended to me briefly.

"You have suspicion about Dean's death?" I inquired.

"Yes, Mr…?"

"Winchester."

_I've given up twenty years of caution for you, Dean. You died a hero. You died a Winchester. I won't say goodbye while you bear a stranger's name._

"Mr Winchester, Sergeant McLocklan. I'm sorry for the loss of your son. I understand that you have questions but here is not a suitable place to discuss them."

"Was my son murdered?"

_Did someone wake up one day and decide to steal my son from me._

"We're treating Dean Winchester's death as suspicious."

"I assume that means 'Yes'."

McLocklan said nothing but I read it in his eyes. He knew. He knew what monster had burned away my boy's mortality. But he wouldn't say. He would stick to the laws he believed in so strongly. He'd try and keep Dean's murderer a secret, protect his identity because it was regulations. But he'd never hold me back; the cruel, sadistic scum that destroyed Dean would never be safe. Perhaps he'd hear my son's agonised, dying pleads at night when he thought he was safe in bed and it was possible that guilt would start to eat away at his sanity. But I'd be there, too watch and coax him into a painful death. He would suffer just as Dean had done. He would die alone and in pain.

And the world will know what happened. The world will understand a father's failure.

"I am sorry, sir. Perhaps you could come down to the station? We have a few questions for you." The aged policemen's voice was wary, frightened to fan the roar inside me.

I nodded and heard Sam step closer to me. Pained eyes focused on McLocklan with curiosity and suspicion.

"What's going on? Do you know who…hurt my brother?"

"This isn't the best place to discuss this, son. If you and your dad could come with me, I'll be happy to explain everything."

"Where?" Sam questioned.

"AutumDale Police Station. Perhaps two miles."

Sam threw me a puzzled, expectant glance. "We'll follow you. Our car's around the corner." I declared.

I turned and strode away before any protest could be uttered, Sam half a step behind me. It still felt wrong to slip into the car and see Sam beside me. But the focused shattered strength on his face was so hauntingly familiar, I swallowed around a sob and let my gaze wander out toward the dented police car waiting for me. When it accelerated smoothly, I threw the car into life and screeched after him.

_Can you hear it…the b-b-b-breaking of my soul? The gentle crack…crack…crack of my sanity?_

…_God Dean, I am so sorry…You know I'm sorry, right? Wherever you are?_

The smiles of the people working inside the Police Station were sickly sweet and horribly forced. They spoke to me with the pretence of concern and loss. They patronised Sam, driving him to the edge of his tolerance. But they were doing their job, I couldn't fault them for that. Sam shifted on the cold plastic chair beside me, dragging a trembling hand over weary eyes. Tiredness was dragging his muscles down, playing games with his mind but I didn't suggest sleep. Sam wouldn't rest until he knew. There was no way either of us were sleeping. The thick door slid open, a younger, greasy haired man stepped into the interview room, shuffling papers. Sam was instantly alert beside me, my body tensed for action.

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, Mr Winchester. I'm PC Daniels."

I nodded in acknowledgement. "What happened to my son?"

Daniels pulled back the chair opposite me, the legs scrapped across the surface and slipped smartly on to it. His posture, straight and proud demanded respect from civilians. But I couldn't remember the last time I counted myself a civilian.

"Please, keep in mind that the suspect hasn't regained consciousness, so we've been unable to interview him."

"Regained consciousness?"

"Yes. He suffered a concussion and a few serious burns. But there are Policemen stationed at his door. We'll question him as soon as he's awake."

"He's burnt!" Sam's voice was anger tinted excitement. "So you know it was him! Can't you arrest him now?"

Daniels shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. There are a few details we need to clear up, some things that don't quite fit in. Besides, everyone, even criminals are entitled to a fair trial. Our suspect is no different."

Sam slumped, deflated back into his seat. I could see his faith in the justice system shake, the foundations not as steady as they had been moments ago.

"Who did it?" I demanded.

_Give me a name. God, give me hair colour. Just give me something. _

"I can't tell you, Mr Winchester. I'm sorry." He waited until I nodded weakly before he continued. "There are just a few questions I need to ask you." I waved for him to continue. "Where were you last night?"

Sam looked horrified, understanding the question before it had even sunk into my mind. I saw his mouth open, knew the heartbroken words waiting to be said and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"At my friend's house. We'd been staying there for a while. Dean called us…he…um…told us to come. But when we got here…well…you know what we saw."

"Is there anyone that can back this up?"

"Yes. Bobby Singer. It's his house."

Daniels pen scratched across his notebook in quick loops and swirls. I tried desperately to ignore the writhing emotions that poked at my skin and mind.

_You're a fool, Daniels. I would never hurt my son. I could never stand back and watch him burn._

…_You see this boy beside me?...The one openly crying?...You honestly think he'd hurt his brother? Do you think he'd walk away as I let Dean burn in unquenchable fire?_

"Just a few more questions. I have already spoken to Mr Morgan and Miss Silva, they seem to believe that there had been some sort of disagreement between Dean and his family. Is this correct?"

I shifted uncomfortably on my seat, guilt a constant pound in my chest. Something flickered across Daniels face, he seemed intrigued. Sam sniffed loudly, sweeping his sleeve under his nose.

"We argued. All of us. It was silly, a mistake on our part."

"And this lead to Dean leaving?"

"Yeah. We didn't know where he was until he called us."

Daniels nodded as his pen moved again. With every passing second, Sam seemed to be curling in on himself, hands shaking, eyes darting around the room for something that wasn't there.

"One last question. Do you know if Dean had any enemies?"

_Of course he has._ "No. None that I know off. Dean's a good kid."

"Sir? I'm sorry but I need to ask something." Sam suddenly spoke from beside me. His voice was laced with tears, sadness, fatigue and a thousand other things I wished he didn't feel.

"Sure, son. What is it?" Daniels spoke with a smile, trying to put a boy at ease. But he couldn't soothe the damage in Sam's soul. Only his dead brother could.

Sam paused, running his tongue over his lips. "Did Dean make any enemies here?"

Daniels smile grew dimmer momentarily before blazing bright again. "Unfortunately, that's something I can't tell you. Thank you for answering our questions, Mr Winchester. You're free to go but could you stay in town? We may need to ask you more questions."

"Y-Yes, of course."

Daniels led us out of the building, past criminals and tired staff. He left us in the parking lot beside the Impala. There was that manufactured spring in his step again, secrets pulsing in the air around him.

I know saw what Sam had.

In the few weeks Dean had been in this town, he made an enemy. Dean had played a deadly game for his life and lost.

Suddenly…I wanted to put miles between this small town and myself.

_Dean…what happened to you?_

…_._

Oh, God. Tell me I haven't just ruined my story!


	18. Going through the motions

Thank you for such lovely supportive reviews but man…you guys are impatient for Dean's return but he won't be in this chapter or the one after…DON'T HATE ME! But he will come back and hopefully all questions will be answered.

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

….

A Soldier's Last Stand.

Without you, I'm just going through the motions.

Sam.

I followed Dad silently as he led us away from the fake concerned and exaggerated smiles and toward the car. Everything about me in that moment, was mechanical. Manufactured to get me through each day…hour…minute…second…without Dean. The confidence in my step was the ghost of Dean, it was just me leeching of him. The strength that kept my hands steady was the glorious presence of Dean I could pretend I felt.

_How could this happen to me?_

…_I know the risks…'short straw'…I knew he could die…But he was supposed to die with me to ease him into death's clutches…Not burning and screaming…_

_I was supposed to tell him 'I love him'._

I threw a glance at Dad, he was so tightly coiled, battling the grief he couldn't accept. But I could see it in the sudden deep lines on his face and his tense muscles. In the bottomless pools his eyes had become. Despite his age, he slipped gracefully into the car, closing the door softly. I hovered outside, running my hand across the Impala's roof, a mirror off Dean's actions, one I wished I could see again. The car was less welcoming now that it was haunted by the spectre of Dean. Everything was tinted reality, somehow I still expected to see Dean's cocky confidence waiting in the passenger seat. But he wasn't, he'd never be again. That seat was mine now. It couldn't belong to him but it felt hopelessly wrong to sit where he should be. I dusted my hand across the body, promising my dead brother, that his car would be loved, that she wouldn't rust.

"Sam? Ready to go?" Dad's voice was rough but I heard concern and pain leak through. He leant across the car, I could see him eyes, so careful and tired, peering out at me. A month ago, he'd have been furious I was stalling, horrified that I was wasting time. But now he seemed to wish he could do the same. Hide and wait until the pain went away.

"Yeah. I'm coming." I slipped a seat that didn't belong to me and the memory of Dean embraced me fiercely.

_God, Dean…I love you so, so much…Please come back…I don't know how to do this without you…_

"We'll find a motel, Sam. We're not leaving until we know what happened."

The nod of my head was definite and agreeing. We would not leave this town in our dust until my brother's destroyer had fallen with him.

_How long can I keep doing this?_

…_Existing without really living…_

I could barely acknowledge the pasty looking man behind the desk. It was the first motel Dad had found. The broken flashing neon sign screamed a name I couldn't read. The yellow stationary declared 'Ranger's Motel.' I was only aware off the aching burn in my chest that refused to ease and only grew worse. Dad placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, I glanced up questionably.

"Got us a room for a few nights, Sam. This way." He pushed me around until I facing the right direction and led me down the pain peeling corridor.

Dad shoved me toward the shower the moment the wooden door shut behind us. There was a flicker of parental concern on his face, something I thought I'd never see. When it faded, I ached for it and understood Dean even more.

_You had four years off Dad's love. A time when he was yours and you thought he'd always be there. But one day, he wasn't Dad anymore._

_You started to fall at four years old._

I dashed toward the bathroom before Dad could see my tears. When the door creaked shut, I bowed on my knees and acknowledged my tears. Beyond the small bathroom, I could hear Dad's breathing grow louder and frantic. Both of us weeping, shattering faster than we could be repaired. The glue that always used to hold the fractured edges together wasn't there. The pressure of my body pressing my knees against the floor sent a tingle of pain through them. Clumsily, I pulled myself to my feet and stripped, clothes lying in forgotten puddles on the floor. The water was scolding but didn't ease the muscles, couldn't soothe the raw emotions inside. It trickled down my back in steady, constant droplets and masked the tears that fell. When the water turned to ice and sent shivers down my spine, I stepped out. The towel I wrapped around myself was old but I couldn't care. I peered carefully out into the bedroom, hunting for the clothes left for me. It was a punch to my gut when I realised they weren't there. Because Dean had always left clothes for me by the doorway, folded so carefully despite how unorganised he was. Something so simple but something I'd walk through hell to have again. I felt tears sting my eyes again, relentless and uncaring. I doubted I'd ever stop crying. I crossed the space between the bathroom and the beds, pulling the tattered bag toward me and hunting for clean clothes. Eventually, I snagged lose jogging bottoms and boxers. I crept back across the room, disappearing into the bathroom and pulling them on. I tugged my discarded clothes into my arms and dumped them back into my bag. Dad approached me stealthily from the kitchen, a perfect mask.

"I used all the hot water. Sorry, Dad." I apologised, waiting for a lecture.

"It's fine Sam. I don't mind." And he was gone, snatching up his bag and closing the bathroom door behind him. I stared after him in confusion.

_Please…Please…end this dream. Give me my family back….I want my brother…I want Dean…._

The frozen water washed away the hardened warrior my Dad pretended to be and I heard his sobs, loud and distinct. Grieving for a broken, burnt, lost man. Crystal tears snaked down already moist tears but I couldn't wipe them away. It was agony, listening to my father shatter further and know I couldn't help him. I turned, sniffing violently and clambered into the bed. I pulled the scratchy blanket tight over my head, hearing when Dad emerged from the bathroom. As sleep pulled on my willing mind, I missed my brother's heavy breathing.

_Maybe when I wake, this will all just be a dream._

But I only awoke to another twisted day, stretching endlessly. Only opened my eyes to my broken family, my incomplete family. Dad sat slumped against the headboard of his bed, his eyes were hooded and bloodshot. I wasn't the only one unable to stop the tears. I saw the effort it took for him to move his head and smile at me. I couldn't force my muscles to copy the movement.

_That's proof. I'm dead inside._

"What do we do now, Dad?"

"I was thinking maybe we could go find Tessa and Nick. I'd like to know everything Dean did while he was here."

I nodded wordlessly, heaving myself to my feet and hunting for my jeans. Dad waited patiently as I dressed and gathered my clothes together, carefully pulling a shirt of Dean's over my head, smoothing down the front. Despite the time, it still smelt faintly of him. Dad's fingers stroked my hair in a way they never had before, calming, reassuring and understanding. I followed him silently, when he walked away from me. The lock clicked shut when he turned the key. I wished it was as easy to lock away my memories.

The smoky, charred remains of the diner sent a tremble of fear down my spine. Now the adrenaline had worn of and I could see the damage. The shared shell of a popular place, people bustling past it quickly, refusing to look at it. I wondered how quickly word had spread; perhaps they knew an innocent life had been stolen. A part of me hoped that they could feel Dean but the other part of me dreaded it. I could not allow Dean to become an angry, restless, frightened spirit. But his mortal body had burnt.

"Come on, Sam. It looks like Tessa and Nick are over there." Dad motioned to the silhouettes against the black building.

I allowed my feet to walk in Dad's footsteps toward the pair. Nick threw an inquisitive glance over his shoulder, his tired face softening when he saw us. Dark circles were smudged under his eyes, his face horribly pale. I smiled weakly at him, Dad nodded in greeting. Tessa didn't straighten, ignoring us while she fiddled with something on the ground. I knelt down beside her, following her delicate fingers. Under her hands, a perfect bouquet of fragile blooms. Yellow roses and perfect lilies wrapped in golden ribbon. With a trembling hand, I touched the fragile petals and tilted the card toward me.

Dean,

I'm glad I met you. I'm sorry you ended your life here. I hope you're happy, wherever you are.

I'll miss you always. I love you.

Goodbye.

Tessa.

I swallowed harshly, letting the message rolls away from me, aware a part of Tessa's heart was on the paper.

"It's not enough." Tessa's voice cracked, swimming with unshed tears. I glanced at her, concerned at what I saw. She was paler than Nick, eyes dancing with liquid, her dry and teeth bitten lips quivering gently. "There was so much I wanted to say but I couldn't find the words. Everything I thought just seemed so inadequate but I really wanted to say something."

I caught her hands, for my comfort as much as hers. "I think Dean would appreciate it anyway."

She nodded, but her face refused to form a smile. "Sammy? Dean called you 'Geek boy', said you like libraries."

A tendril of pain whispered between us, the ghost of a man who had touched our hearts. "That sounds like him."

"He missed you. Never said but his eyes never lied. I think from the moment he got here a part of him wanted to come home."

I couldn't find the words to reply to her but I could see she didn't need one. She turned away from me, focusing on her flowers. She'd stated something she thought I should know. My older brother's endless love. Something I'd never have again.

"You know the first time I saw, Dean. I thought he was gorgeous but then I looked deeper and realised he was beautiful. Gentleness and kindness hidden under that smirk." _Thank you, Tessa. Thank you for seeing his beauty when I couldn't._ "We realised he was something special when he protected us without being asked. Nick got hurt, a silly fight between rivals and Dean was there." Finally she smiled wistfully "I never got the chance to take him sightseeing. Never got the chance to…"

Her face crumpled and her hands flew up over her eyes. I didn't attempt to stop the tears that fell down my cheeks and I held her and cried with her. Dad crouched down beside me, his hand and gentle pressure on my back, I was aware of Nick kneeling beside Tessa. All of us staring at Dean's beautiful flowers.

"Thank you." Dad whispered. "Thank you for loving my son."


	19. Tell me I'm wrong

Hello lovely people! 150 reviews…Holy crap! I hope this means I'm forgiven for making you cry and burning Dean and making the boys part…or maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that….Here's the next chapter! Would anyone mind if I wrote a chapter from Nick or Tessa's point of view?

No one found the sentence connecting 'Crossfire' and 'Going through the motions'. Ah well…

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

P.S.- Sorry it's so short.

...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

Tell me I'm wrong. I think I murdered you.

Bobby.

"_Dean's dead….He burnt…"_

Three days ago, John told me Dead was dead. Three days ago, I lost a beautiful man who had curled in my heart as a son. Though not my son by blood, I loved him. Ever since he arrived in my life, small and frightened, nestled in his father's arms, he's belonged here. He didn't deserve to die writhing in pain and fire. There was a hideous hole where his smile should be, a disastrous wound in my chest. John's words would never leave me. I'd remember his words until I die, the panic in a father's voice. I could only imagine the devastation flowing through Sam.

_I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry._

…_.I sent you too your death…_

_What have I done?_

That night under the star sequined sky, I should have held Dean close to me, captured him in my arms and screamed for John. Reasoned with him until he saw sense and looked past his hurt. Perhaps, I would have clipped his wings and chained him down but he'd have his life and future. I'd stand the storm of his anger just to have him back again. Maybe, all Dean needed was someone to listen and catch him.

_Did the distance hammer your resentment into you?_

…_Why did I let you go?..._

The weeks without Dean had seem endless but hope had dusted the sunrise. Now…hope had been snatched away with life. I honestly hadn't believed that Dean would be stolen away from us before we brought him home.

God…Did I take away a father and a brother's chance to reconcile?

Is it my fault?

Smothering a sigh, I sank down into the faded armchair beside the flickering fire. My face dropped into my hands, trying to escape from my guilt. I couldn't deny it. I had sent a twenty year old boy to his death. It was my fault he'd burnt hideously and left his little brother behind. I can't make up for it. There's no way I can heal the hurt. I know I deserve this wild, noisy shatter off my life. I deserve to hear the screams of my conscience.

_I never knew you Mary but I'm sorry your beautiful, gifted son had to die so young._

_I can never forgive myself for causing his fall._

It's been years since I last shed a tear. I'm a hardened warrior, I've see death and I've caused it. I can't remember the last time the loss of life caused me to cry. But this was different. This was Dean. Once the first tear fell, I couldn't command them to stop. I sobbed bitterly, beside an open fire and plagued by Dean's lonely ghost.

_Trade our places. Take me for him. I'm old. He's young. I'm tired off the world. He could change it. Please…bring our boy home…_

"I'm sorry, Dean. Please. So sorry." I wept into my hands.

I prayed for a reassuring, cocky response but only heard the silence.

I dragged my body, weary and heavy into my kitchen, pulling open the fridge with effort and tugging a cool beer bottle toward me. I stared at the liquid contained in the glass with interest and concentration. I knew better than this. It was a dark road once alcohol's devious, pointed fingers took hold. But it would be so easy to let go and pour the liquid down my throat, float away in a numb haze. I snapped the cap off the bottle, letting it clatter to the ground and lifted the neck toward my lips.

_Dean…Imagine if Dean could see you…What would he think?..._

My hand hovered, the bottle lip resting against my mouth, liquid sloshing inside. Dean…

_Are you really going to drag his memory through the dark? Use him as an excuse to drink?_

I lowered my hand, studying the bottle with new found interest and confusion. Each sip of this liquid would ruin every memory I had of Dean. But the urge was strong and unrelenting, I felt a long forgotten whisper stir in my gut.

_You're stronger than this, Bobby. Don't you dare do this to Dean._

I ripped my fingers away from the bottle with an almost desperate cry. I glared at the bottle with fury and despair.

_Do you understand, Dean? What you've done too us? How much you meant to us?_

"WHY DIDN'T YOU FIGHT, DEAN? WHY DID YOU GIVE UP?" I cried, seizing the body of the bottle in a grip so strong it groaned. I threw it away from me with a deafening shout. I watched the amber liquid swirl in the air and splash against the floor. The glass bottle shattered against the wall, falling to a thousand glittering shards. I watched them reflect in the artificial light, momentarily memorised.

The phone's shrill, loud call shattered my thoughts and I turned wordlessly toward the cradle containing the ringing phone.

"Hello? Bobby Singer, speaking."

"Hi, Bobby. It's Sam." I recognised the dead, tired voice before he uttered the name. Guilt hammered in time with my pulse._ I'm so sorry, kid._

"Sam. How are you, boy?" I inquired and the cringed at my question.

"I…I don't know. Everything's so messed up. I can't work it out."

I understood the confusion and swirling emotions. The injustice of losing a loved one. "I know, Sam."

"Does it ever get better? It hurts so much."

"Time takes the edges of the pain but it won't ever go away."

Sam sighed deeply and swallowed around his tears. "I miss him, Bobby. I want him back,"

_I'd give anything to bring him back, Sam. I'd sell my soul to the devil if it meant you could hold him again._

"I know. How's your daddy?"

"He's…I don't think he's all right. But I don't know."

"Can you put him on the phone?"

"He's in the shower. Can he call you back?"

"That's fine, Sam."

"Bobby…They think it was arson…"

_A HUMAN killed, Dean? A person with a soul did that?_

…_I'll kill them…_

"Bobby?"

"Everything's going to be all right, Sam."

_Liar. You killed his big brother…._

…

Sorry! But I wanted to post something!


	20. You taught me well

Hello lovely people. Unfortunately no one read my last author's note and therefore didn't answer the question. BUT…I decided to go ahead with my plan and deal with the fallout. I hope you like it. I'm not exactly thrilled with it but I wanted to do it. I'm sorry. It's not very good.

Anyway enjoy!

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

…..

A Soldier's Last Stand.

You taught me well.

Nick.

Sometimes…a soul can shine so brightly that it makes the world a little dimmer when their light goes out.

….The earth…so wide and old…can grieve for the loss of a life…

A person so gentle and loving…who captured hearts unknowingly…leaves a septic, raw wound behind when it's their time…one time can't heal…

…Dean…Dean was such a person…he shone brighter than the stars in a world so dark…now…I didn't realise reality could feel so wrong…I never thought night would always taint my vision…

It's not my place to question…but I do…Why?...Why was he stolen so brutally from us?...

…_Kiddo…Punk…Hot Shot…My friend…Little brother…Please, find your way home…back to us…_

_I can dream, can't I?...Live in a fool's world…_

I wandered aimlessly through my apartment, curling bare toes against the carpet. Behind her tightly locked bedroom door, Tessa wept loudly. We were both grieving, suffering hideously but treading different routes. Tessa needed me to catch her, save her from the death of her friend. I could halt her fall…but there'd be no one to catch me. There was no way to fill the time between morning's light and the sun's death. Now the Diner was scorched ashes, I had nowhere to go. Nowhere to allow myself to get lost in stupid tasks. I padded into the kitchen, ignoring the cold tiles underneath my feet. Wordlessly, I dragged a dirty cloth across the work surfaces, praying my mind would numb and I could just forget.

_I wish I could save you, Dean…You must have been so frightened…_

…_Tell me…how do I forget you?...How do I pretend I never knew you?..._

"Nick? You've already cleaned that twice today. Are you OK?" Tessa's voice clung to her tears, to her despair.

Her words halted my hand, I stared down at the rag cloth, knowing she was right. Slowly, my fingers uncurled and my hand withdrew. I could hardly dare to look at Tessa, wishing I didn't have to witness her pain. But she stepped closer to me, a pale manicured hand gripped my forearm. I automatically glanced up, something twisting inside when her grief filled eyes met mine. Her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears but she was forcing them back. But she couldn't hide the tears on her face, the quiver in her chin. I'd never seen Tessa look so unspectacular, she had no eyeliner framing her eyes, no ruby red staining her lips. Standing before me, in our kitchen, she looked frighteningly small and venerable. Under my gaze, she pulled a pink knitted cardigan around her shoulders.

_Her Grandmother's…I haven't seen that cardigan for years…You really are struggling aren't you, Tessa?_

"Nicky? Sweetie, what's wrong?" Concern had punched through her tears, the grip on my arm tightened.

"Tessa, I'm all right." I soothed, tugging her gently into the circle of my arms. She hide her face in my chest, sun kissed hair hiding her features. She felt so frail in my grasp, I was afraid I'd break her.

"I miss him." She whimpered.

"I know. I miss him too."

She clung to me in hopeless desperation, wrinkling the fabric of my shirt. "I want him back!"

"Oh, Tessie. I understand how you feel, baby. I'd give anything to have him back."

"I just can't understand. Why did he have to die?"

"I can answer than. I suppose it was just his time."

"You want to bring destiny and God into this mess?" Brittle anger had her nails digging into my chest, she struggled away but I held her close. "No. This has nothing to do with a higher power. This is mankind at its. Some…cold…worthless…monster stole Dean from us." With a forceful fist to my gut, Tessa ripped herself away from me. I staggered breathlessly back against the fridge. "Tell me, Nick, how can Dean find peace? How can he let go when he was killed like that?"

I watched her fragile control shatter, with a gasp her tears fell. She stalked away from me, shoulders heaving with sobs, her broken weeping filling the air around me.

_That's not the question though is it, Tessa? You were asking how can WE let go of HIM when he was killed like that…_

…_My answer…we can't…_

_Dean died in my diner…my rented apartment…does that make it my fault?_

When Tessa's door slammed shut with enough force to jolt the rooms, I fell to my knees on the tilled floor and wondered why I couldn't cry. I clambered uneasily to my feet, a dart of grief struck inside me. I followed Tessa, stumbling toward her lilac bedroom door. I twisted the handle, biting back a whimper at the locked door.

_No…I can't lose you too, Tessa…_

"Go away, Nick." She spat through the wood.

"Tessa, please! Open the door."

"Leave me alone!"

The loud, pulsing music suddenly drowned out my cries. My head throbbed agonisingly and I bit back tears but Tessa never answered me.

The loud, forceful knockings against the apartment door, forced me from the worn couch. I crossed the room, flashing a concerned glance to Tessa's room. I wasn't welcome to her and I didn't press further. I opened the door, catching the weathered face of Sergeant McLocklan behind the wood. He smiled sympathetically, an action I couldn't mirror.

"Good day Mr Morgan. Can I speak with you?" He asked for permission but I couldn't deny him.

"Of course. You have more questions?" I turned and lead him toward the leather couch, gesturing form him to sit.

"Just a few. Is it possible to speak with Miss Silva?"

"…No…she's asleep. This is a very difficult time for her. I don't want to upset her further."

"How are you coping?"

"…Fine, considering the circumstances." I lied with easy but the old man saw through. A gentle frown fell across his face. "Your questions?"

"Right. How would you describe your relationship with Mr Winchester?"

"We got on fine. He was a good kid. Well…we had a few minor disagreements but I think we were so strong willed we clashed."

"Minor disagreements? Like what?"

"You've spoken to his father? You understand their situation?" When he nodded, I continued with cautioned restrained words. "I told him to go home, back to his family. He wasn't ready, he wasn't impressed with me trying to force him to a decision. I thought it would be best to leave it alone after that."

"Did he mention his family often?"

"No. We'd catch him staring randomly at families in the Diner sometimes and he'd bring them up in conversations sometimes. But I think it was by mistake. He would always look shocked and fall silent for a while whenever he did that. Never answered our questions."

"Mr Morgan, are you acquainted with a Mr Day?" A secret past whispered like a curse inside me. One where friends had become enemies, under a summer sun.

"Yes I know him. He's a nasty piece of work." I prayed he didn't notice my hesitation. The memories I clung onto so tightly.

"How so?"

I leant back against the couch, moulding my body against the leather. "He starts fights he can't finish. He did start one with Dean one time, even brought so goons with him."

"Goons? Can you tell me their names?"

"He called them Larry and Carl. I don't know their last names." The truth hid my twisted words. The past the four of us had, the one I walked away from.

McLocklan nodded, scribbling hurriedly against his notebook. "Thank you for your time, Mr Morgan."

"What? That's it? You aren't going to tell me anything?"

"When I have so news I'll let you know. Goodbye, Sir."

He had excused himself and shut the door behind him before I could protest.

…_Zack…please…tell me you haven't done this…I don't believe it…_

I toyed with the phone in my hand, flipping it over and running my fingers over the keys. My brother's home phone number sat idly on the desk, a present from my mother.

"He'll be so pleased, Nicky!" She'd squealed down the plastic handset. "He's really missed you! He's grown up Nick, let him make amends."

But Kevin had nothing to be sorry for, he'd only wanted his life. I was the one who spat insults and wished him away for good.

"_Nicky…please…don't be like this. I'll stay in contact, I promise. But I've got to go." Twenty. Young. Independent. A dreamer._

"_No! If you leave, you stay gone!" Seventeen. Young. Naive. Hurt._

"_Nicky…brother…don't do this." Tears…why didn't I notice he was crying? "I love you, Kid."_

"_Go away. Don't ever come back." Stubborn. Acid words. Lies. Every word leaving my lips. A lie. "I don't ever want to see you again."_

_A pause. A fractured heartbeat. "Goodbye, Nick."_

_Little brother's silence. Older brother's departure. Lost for seven years._

I was wrong.

My heart an unsteady beat inside me, I danced my fingertips against the keys, suddenly afraid. When the phone started to ring, I wanted nothing more than to slam the phone down and forget my attempt at reaching Kevin.

"Hello, Morgan residence. Katie speaking, may I help you?"

_Katie…Who are you…?_

"H-Hello. Um…is…eh…is Kevin home?"

"Yes. One moment, I'll go find him. He's probably in the garden." Her voice faded away, leaving me listening to the buzz of a home.

I wanted to run, I'd never been so afraid of hearing his voice. The voice of the man I had admired, my hero and best friend. Until I went too far.

"Hello, this is Kevin Morgan. Can I help you?"

_Kevin…it's been too long…what do I say?_

Something had stolen my voice, all I heard were the gruff tones of his.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Oh, damn! It's you kids again, isn't it? Stop calling or I'll get the police involved." I heard his anger, knew he was starting to put the phone down.

"WAIT! KEV, PLEASE!" I cried, jerking upright in my seat.

"You sound familiar. Who are you?"

My breath caught in my chest. "It's me. N-Nick."

"Nicky…" Kevin breathed, emotion caught in his voice. "Is it really you? H-How did you get my number?"

"I called mum. I…I wanted to find you."

"Well, you found me brother." His voice was tinted with amusement. Tears were bubbling in my throat, my chest aching as I tried to hold them back.

"Yeah. Oh, God, Kev. I am so sorry. I was such a brat. I really didn't mean it." I gasped.

"Calm down, Nick. You were a child, it's OK. The moment you picked up the phone, I forgave you."

"Thank you. Thank you."

"So, how have you been?"

_I'm falling and no one's thinking about catching me because their too wrapped up in their own despair._

"I'm fine, Kevin. Hey, who's Katie? She sounded nice."

"She's my Fiancée." The pride in his voice was overwhelming.

"Wow. Congrats, man."

"Thanks, bro. Listen, Nicky. I got to go. Can I call you later? Tomorrow perhaps?"

"Yes!" I winced at how desperate I sounded. But Kevin didn't mind.

"Talk then. Listen, Kid, I am so pleased you called. I have missed you so much."

"I missed you too. Kev…I love you." I whispered the words I refused to say all those years ago, afraid but begging.

"I love you too."

I let the phone hang up with a click. I staggered backward, colliding with the navy wall, my mind reeling. I slid down the wall, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. Finally, the tears flowed, loud and free. I didn't know how to stop them.

_Thank you, Dean. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you._

…_I would never have had the courage if I had never met you…_

Delicate, female arms suddenly slipped around my shoulders, my head pressed against a fragile shoulder. Tessa held me silently, offering no words to ease my distress but she didn't need too. Her body pressed tightly against mine was the support I needed. So I clung to her just as she had clung to my in our kitchen. Her nails grasped my shirt front, suddenly we both had the permission to cry together.

"I loved him, Nick. I really, truly did."

Anguish swept through me, I held her tighter to me. "I know you did, sweetie. I wish he knew too."

In a blaze of silent anger, I stood outside the hospital. My mind had suddenly worked everything out, I understood McLocklan's questions, the truth he so easily danced around. The whole time he knew and I being a fool had overlooked the truth. The killer living among us, breathing our air and turning it sour. He'd walked the same streets as me. We held a secret past only we could know. He'd betrayed me, all those countless years ago and now he'd ripped out my heart. Butchered an innocent boy in flames and blood. There was no redemption for the life he took, the blood staining his hands. Money could rebuild the Diner, time could bring the customers back. But the wounds would never be healed. The gapping whole where Dean should be would never be full. Snarling, I pushed away from the shadows and stalked into the hospital. A pretty, little redhead receptionist smiled up at me, her uniform pristine, her face ready to assist.

"Hello, may I help you?"

"Yes, please. I'm looking for a Mr Zackary Day."

"Are you a relative?"

"His cousin, Danny Day."

_Knowing your history finally pays off…I don't care I'm lying…I don't care I'll burn in hell…or…the punishment the justice system will deal to me…_

…_Dean will have his peace…Tessa will be appeased…The world will be free from Zack…_

"All right, Mr Day. Your cousin is in Room 221 in intensive care. Follow the red lines on the floor."

I thanked her with a gentle smile and cast my gaze onto the floor that sparkled in light. I followed the crimson trails silently, pressing my feet along it, in a momentarily childish game.

_I'm coming for you, Zack. I will make you pay._


	21. Tell me why Whoops, you can't

Hello my gorgeous lovely people! Thank you so much for your supportive reviews. I apologise for that wait but I had to be sure that everyone was kept happy. A few people have been complaining that the story is not moving fast enough but I need your patience for one more chapter. But please be aware, Dean will make an appearance soon but there won't be any more chapters written in his point of view for a while. I'm sorry if this disappoints.

Thank you for your time.

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

…

A Soldier's Last Stand.

Tell me why. Whoops, you can't.

Sam.

_The morning's supposed to hold new promises. A new life._

…_.I don't want a new life…I want my old one…with Dean…_

The days don't get easier, the nights don't get shorter. They get worse because I can't stop the nightmares from invading my waking world. At night, I dream of fire and bubbling skin and Dean's wrenched cry. In my dreams, I'm running through brimstone and oceans but I can never reach him. Always, he cries out for me, begging me to save him. I carry his phantom voice in my heart. Just as Dad carried his scream inside.

I sighed and rolled of my bed, Dad was stationed on his bed, the guns sat in pieces around him. I watched as he effortlessly cleaned their compartments and snapped them back in place. Still, it was wrong because Dean wasn't there.

"Morning Dad."

He grunted in response, loneliness squeaked inside me. Without another word, I slipped into the bathroom and counted the tears as they twisted down my face.

The frantic banging on the Motel Room door, startled me, I dropped the shirts I was clutching. Confusion flickered across Dad's face but he rose, clutching the shot gun that had always been Dean's favourite. With routine practice, he pressed the muzzle to the wood and creaked open the door.

"Tessa?" There was a heartbeat of surprise before he exclaimed her name and stepped back.

I hurried toward the door and the vibrant blonde threw herself into the room. Her eyes were wide and panicked, she gasped in mouthfuls of greedy air and she panted before us. She looked only slightly better than the last time we met, a little less pale.

"Are you OK?" I questioned.

"NO! Oh, God! You've got to stop him!"

"Stop who? Tessa! What's wrong?"

"Nick knows where Zack is." Anger fizzled through me but I wanted for Tessa to finish explaining. "Please, he's going to kill him. Stop him!"

Dad stared into her pleading, tearful eyes and nodded. "Where is he?"

"AutumDale Surgery. Middle of town."

"We'll stop him. Go home, Tessa."

She squealed and threw her arms around Dad's shoulders. He staggered under her weight, alarm crossing his face before he softly embraced the woman back and stepped away. Tessa turned toward me, stooping down to hug me fiercely.

"Thank you."

I held her tightly, aware of how much she'd lost and how much she still could. "It'll be OK."

She danced away from us and rushed out of the door, content her friend was safe with us.

"Let's go, Sam."

I scooped up my jacket and threw Dad's his, he caught it one handed, scrabbling for his keys with the other.

It wasn't hard to find Zack's room, we wandered the hallways until we found the room swarming with guards. A crash echoed from the furthest end of the corridor, voices argued, loud and gruff. Dad spend up and I followed him in alarm. Policemen didn't notice us, too concerned with the panic inside the room.

"NO! MURDEROUS BASTARD! LET ME GO, GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME! I'LL KILL HIM! HOW COULD YOU? HE WAS JUST A KID! WHY DID YOU KILL HIM? LET ME GO! I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL, MAY! GET OFF ME!"

I froze in surprise, Dad jerked to a startled stop beside me. I recognised the voice, it belonged to the chocolate eyed man. I dashed around the corner, my feet skidded on the polished hospital floor. Dad followed half a step behind me, his footfalls loud and determined. A thick muscled man restrained Nick in an almost suffocating grasp, rough arms wrapped around the smaller man's chest. Nick's normal placid face was hate and despair and a rage that stole logic away. He looked so wild and it was horribly wrong.

"Sir! Please, calm down or I'll get security!" Threats didn't dissuade Nick, he made another lunge for the bandaged man on the bed.

"LET ME GO!" His demands were so simple but they went unfulfilled.

I dashed forward, ducking under flustered nurses and outstretched arms. A nearby doctor made a swipe for me, attempting to snag my shirt collar but I twisted away from him. I positioned myself in front of Nick, trying desperately to capture his attention. The male nurse encasing Nick's chest sent me a warning glance but I ignored him.

"Nick! Calm down!" I ordered, slipping my hands around his wrists.

At my voice, recognition flashed across Nick's face but he never let go of his anger. His attention was focused on a silent figure on the bed. Confused I followed his gaze, remembering PC Daniel's words too late.

"_He suffered a concussion and a few serious burns."_

Numbed and horrified, I regarded the bandaged man with hostile pain. Wordlessly, I stepped away from Nick and approached the rail of the metal bed. My gaze swept over the burned man, fixated with his smouldered face and immobile body. His eyes were kept tightly closed, chest gasping heavily. Nausea settled in my stomach, tears were suddenly sparking at my eyes. I sniffed, dragging a shaking breath into my lungs and battling back tears.

"You…You killed him…It's your fault…"

My words caught in my throat; suddenly I yearned for the safety of my brother. But this mortal man had stolen him, burned away his soul and left a carcass behind. Crushed his future and all of the wonderful things he could have done.

_It's so strange….you're just one man…how did you end Dean's life?...Why did you succeed were all the monsters have failed?_

…_.Was it because you hit him when he was vulnerable?... _

The constant beeping of the heart monitored beside the bed reminded me of what I had lost. I followed the wires connected to his body, seeing the thin needles buried in his skin. I didn't realise my hand was hovering over the feeds until gentle fingers stilled my movements. Startled, I glanced over my shoulder and met the sorrowful eyes of Nick. I let him push my hand away, folding it gently across my chest.

"I'm sorry I lost it, Sam. You shouldn't have seen that."

"This is the man who burned. Who is he?"

Nick swallowed harshly. "Zack Day."

"He killed Dean, didn't he?"

Pain shot through Nick's eyes, his expression tightened. "Yes."

"Why did they let him live? They should have let him die."

Nick's arms fell over my shoulder, holding me tightly. But the arm was wrong, the pressure was too light and the cologne was wrong. Nick cautious, afraid to upset me but Dean had never cared. Because he knew me.

"It's wrong, Sam. Every life is worth something."

"But why wasn't Dean's?"

Nick sighed, I felt his fist clench against my shoulder. "I don't know."

_The Bible says murderers go to hell…but you…Zack Day…Hell's far too good for you…There's nothing in this universe that will punish you like you deserve._

A young female nurse hovered by my side, her face was innocent and open, she smelt faintly of apple blossom. When she caught my eye she smiled softly and the compassion I saw was real.

"Hello, I'm Nurse Hazel." She greeted warmly

"Sam." I stared at Zack, wishing he would burst into consciousness. "Can I talk to him?"

"He's not awake yet, Sam. Even if he was, I don't think the police would let you." I had almost forgotten the overpowering presence of the armour plated guards at the door. I risked a glance at the stony, impassive men and wondered if they really knew who they were protecting. But I could not forget my brother's murder, my attention couldn't be swayed.

"Do you know what he did?" I whispered

Nurse Hazel's gaze slipped from Zack's, her face twisting into a grimace. "Yes. Yes, I know. But Sam, you must understand, it's my job to save him. I took an oath when I agreed to become a nurse. I can't let him die because of what he did. No matter what my heart might say." I knew then her compassion was genuine. She truly had been touched by my brother, his death had tugged on her heart. Whilst she didn't hold contempt for her patient, she couldn't wish for his survival either.

I recognised the sudden pressure on my shoulder as Dad's, I turn to acknowledge him. Nick bowed away from him, lowering his eyes to the floor.

"We should go now, Sam. The hospital has agreed to call us when Zack awakens." I nodded, smiling at Nurse Hazel as she leant over to fiddle with the wires. Her answering grin was bright and liberating. Dad turned to Nick, briefly squeezing his shoulder. "You too, Nick. We can't leave you here."

Nick nodded wildly, pacing out of the room without glancing back to Zack lying prone on the bed. Releasing my shoulder, Dad followed him out, a different stride in his step, an odd weight on him. I unleashed a raw, agony filled stare on Zack's unresponsive body.

"You killed my brother. You stole my life! You'll be a monster forever and I'll make sure the world knows."

My footsteps echoed Dad's as I watched him fade down the hall.

When I reached Dad's side, his unrelenting, scorching stare was focused on Nick. The younger man fidgeted and wilted before my father's powerful figure.

"What was that about, Nick?" Dad growled.

"I…I don't know…McLocklan told me…and…I knew where he was…I just…lost it…Oh…I'm sorry!" Nick's ramblings were broken and frantic. I could almost see as he was pulled deeper into the mess of Dean's death. But he looked so sad and heartbroken and I understood his actions.

"McLocklan told you their suspect was Zack?" I inquired. Nick nodded miserably. His body hunched forward, surrendering suddenly.

Dad sighed, regarding the tired, sorrowful man before him on the gum stained pavement. "Go home, Nick. I'm sure Tessa needs you."

"Yes. Um…sir…could you possible call me if you get anything from Zack?" Nick timidly held out a scrap of paper. Before Dad could object, I snatched it from him and slipped it into my pocket. Anger flickered across Dad's face, something purred inside me.

"Of course we will!" I declared. " Bye!"

Nick nodded briefly and swept away from us. Dad turned to me with an almost forgotten fire in his eyes. Defiance grew in me as I returned his hostility.

"That wasn't your call to make, Sam." He snapped, impatience seeping into his voice.

"You were going to say no!" I cried, folding my arms tightly across my chest. "That man has lost everything. A friend. His business. His apartment. He's only asking one little thing and I saw you about to object to it."

"What if it was a Demon, Sam? How do I explain that to him?"

"NO! No, Demons. A MAN killed Dean, dad. A simple, worthless HUMAN! Please, please don't turn Dean's death into a hunt." Anger beat in time with my heart, fizzing up my spine and fogging my mind. I couldn't let my brother become a hunt. Another nightmare to add to the terrors, just some whispered secret that the world would never know.

"Look at the facts, Sam. There was blood left on the ground."

"Zack's blood."

"Dean's leather jacket wasn't burnt. It was almost like it had been planted there on purpose."

A chill swept through me, I struggled with my tears, my now ever present companion. "We saw the body, Dad. I'm so sure it was Dean."

"Maybe you only think that because you expected it to be him. What if it wasn't? Dean could be hurt somewhere."

"There was no sulphur." I grasped blindly in the dark, fighting for reasons against the logic I accepted by refused to believe.

"The building was on fire, we wouldn't have found any."

Grief sealed my lips shut and stole away my breath. Horror was a beating pulse inside me, the fear my brother had suffered worse than I believed. I couldn't stop the tears that trickled from my tired eyes. Dad's eyes softened, darting nervously away from me as I struggled to control my emotions.

"I can't think like that, Dad. I don't want to believe the Demons found him here, where we weren't. I don't ever want to know he hunted alone without back up."

"Sammy…"

"Because if he did, we messed up so badly. If we didn't argue he would have come home. Dean's clever, an amazing hunter but he was never immortal." I smiled bitterly at my comment. "If he found a hunt, he wasn't ever going to survive."

I turned and paced toward the car, allowing my back to face dad. Moments later, I heard his sharp intake of breath and the footsteps that followed.

I danced around Dad, keeping my wicked tongue caught behind my teeth. Dad respectively glanced away whenever I looked in his direction. We were wound so tight, hostility and grief roaring inside us, neither of us knowing how to tame the beast. Dean had always been the balm that coated our wounds. With gentle, practised words, he soothed over our hurts and smoothed our ruffled prides. The sentences he spoke were sometimes like liquid honey, beautiful and sincere but I never noticed the subtle sour after taste. I didn't know it stung him when he spoke.

Groaning, I sank down onto the bed, my heart searching for the ghost of my brother. Dad flipped aimlessly through the paper, drifted over headlines and grainy photographs. I bit my lip, a question on my tongue but fear holding it back.

"Dad? Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Are we going to have a funeral for him?"

Dad's attention leapt from the page, his eyes suddenly alarmed and confused. "Funeral?"

"For Dean." I clarified "We need to say goodbye, bury him."

"Sam…Dean won't be buried. Uhm…I want Dean to have a hunter's funeral."

"Cremated. So he can't come back?"

_Dean's soul burned in fire…Why shouldn't his body follow?_

Dad nodded. "For my own peace of mind."

"I understand. I think it's a good idea."

Dad's smile was everything he'd never say. I silently basked in the gratitude and love sent my way. I slipped deeper down into the mattress and dragged a worn, crinkled book toward me. As dad flipped through his paper, I lost myself in an imagined land where my loss couldn't touch me.

Stationed beside Dad, I bent my head over the plastic bag containing my brother's few possessions. I ignored the buzzing policemen and Dad's loud, commanding voice. Falling down into a rickety plastic chair, I slipped away the plastic container and let the items fall onto my lap. I caressed the glossy fabric of the leather coat, smiling faintly at the familiar smell. I remembered the morning Dad had been presented with the jacket. He had looked up and grinned and all the troubles seemed to filter away for a heartbeat. I slipped my arms into the sleeves, amusement flickering through me as the cuff fell over my knuckles. I scooped up Dean's faded wallet, my heart stuttered when it fell open and my own face stared back at me. A perfect moment captured in a snapshot. Dad's quick fingers had caught this moment one summer's day. Dean had been caught off guard, his face basked in the glow of the evening sun. But what made me choke, was the serene, beautiful smile on his face. I swiped away a droplet of water that fell onto the surface, suddenly angry with myself for sobbing. I reached back into the bag, frowning as my seeking fingers encountered only air. I grasped in my lap, my breaths growing more rapid as the seconds passed and I couldn't find it.

"Sam?" Dad questioned

"Where's his amulet?" I inquired desperately.

Confusion flickered across Dad's face and he peered hopelessly into the bag. "I don't know, Sam."

_I don't understand…What's going on?..._

I stepped out of the bathroom, eyes automatically searching for the clothes that would never be there again. Flinching, I crossed to my bag and plucked a clean top from the depths. I pulled my jeans up over my boxers, jumping when Dad flung the motel door open. His face was hurried and strangely excited.

"Dad?"

"Hurry up, Sam. We're needed at the hospital."

"Why?"

"Zack's awake."

In the moment, the Devil himself couldn't have stopped me.

_What do I say?...How do I start a conversation with my brother's killer?..._

…_.All I want to know is…Why?..._

I followed Dad down the pristine corridor, wincing at the sharp smell of disinfectant and overly bright walls. I tried to ignore the patience in the wards we went past, hooked up to drains, bleeding softly, dying quietly. A whisper of unease swept through me, I'm not a stranger to hospitals. There's been countless times in my life that it was me, surrounded by machines, clinging desperately to life…knowing who clutched my hand….But Dean wasn't here anymore. No one would ease me back into reality, at best I'd get a determined yank from the man who had forgotten how to be a father.

My gaze dropped down to my feet, the nurses wheeled a man with glazed, distant eyes. A woman sobbed quietly behind, she stumbled over her feet as she followed. I hurried to walk beside Dad, he didn't notice my discomfort, my brother would have.

"Sam. Mr Winchester?" I recognised the voice that called to us. My gaze jerked up, Nurse Hazel smiled sympathetically at me, before her eyes jerked back to Dad. "He's awake. But please remember, my patient is tired and hurt. Don't overdo it. I'll wait outside…so will the police…" She swept gracefully away, leaning back against the far wall as a thin man followed her lead.

Dad strode into the room, his face roaring with the anger that simmered beneath the skin. I walked in his footprints, sweat breaking out on my palms, my heart fluttering faster.

_Finally…you WILL answer my questions…I WILL know why…_

I stopped beside Dad as he stared down at Zack, I'd seen that murderous, unholy gaze before but never directed at a human. Zack rolled his face toward us, I barely managed to reign in my hatred. But looking closer, my stomach churned, Zack's eyes were dead. There wasn't a spark of life or intelligence in them.

"Who are you?" He inquired, swiping his tongue over cracked lips.

"I'm John and this is Sam. You killed my son."

Pain flickered briefly across his face, something guarded deep inside. Anger flared in me, Zack couldn't keep secrets because if he did I'd never know the truth.

"Dean." Zack clarified. Dad nodded once, harsh and hostile.

"Why did you do it?" I asked.

Zack's gaze flickered over to me. "I didn't know he had a brother. I'm sorry, kid."

"Answer me!" I demanded. "WHY?"

"…I…It wasn't me…something else…inside…"

Horror was a curse inside me, the tears that pricked my eyes were hot, fresh and raw. Because Dad had been right. The nightmares had finally caught up with Dean. Finally won.

"Zack, listen to me." Dad commanded. He waited until Zack had swung his eyes back to him. "Explain exactly what happened."

Zack frowned, his eyebrows dragging together. "Something attacked me, a few months back, I think….Suddenly…I wasn't in control…The Thing knew Dean…It was so angry the first time it saw him…It started the fire…I tried to fight it…I didn't want Dean to die, he was a good kid but I wasn't strong enough." Zack broke of with a strangled sob, turning his head away from us. "I'm sorry."

I spun away from the mortal man who had been conned, forced into a brutal murder by something much more than him.

_I'm lost…Who do I hate now I can't hate you?..._

…_.Where's that Demon?..._

"Thank you, Zack." Dad's voice was tired, old and everything else it should never sound like.

"You're not to blame." The words were acid in my mouth.

I was about to walk past the threshold of the room when a weak, frightened voice met my ears.

"Before it…left me…it was angry. Something had gone wrong. But I remember more than anything, the emotion it felt the most was…fear…Sir, don't stop looking for Dean."

I started to turn back to him, but Dad caught my shoulder and marched me away from him.

_What did that mean?_

…_What do Demon's fear?..._

_But…Dean's at the morgue…isn't he?_

I glanced up at Dad, and saw the questions sprinting through my mind reflected on his face. I stumbled when someone barged into me, scowling, I glared up at the man. I couldn't see his face, his cap was pulled low down, I got a glance of dark shades. He kept his shoulders hunched and ignored my gaze as he passed me. I dismissed him, and followed Dad, hurrying to catch up to him. I jerked around a heartbeat later, my pulse sprinting at the shock of breaking glass and a woman screaming. Dad reacted faster than I did, turning on his heel and dashing down the corridor. I rushed after him, falling to my knees beside the still body of Nurse Hazel. Timidly, I pressed my fingertips to her neck, frantic in my search for life.

"She's alive!" I exclaimed. Dad nodded and hurried into the room containing Zack.

The policemen, staggered to his feet, confusion and anger at war on his face. "What happened?" He demanded.

"I don't know, Sir."

"Officer! In here!" Dad called, something was wrong with his voice.

Approaching the room my soul wept, the monitors screeched relentlessly. I hovered by the bed, staring disbelievingly down at the body on the bed. Despite the warnings and alarms screaming, the officer reached forward and pressed his fingers to Zack's artery. He lowered his hand, shaking his head. I regarded the corpse with a trained eye, confusion swirling inside me. There was no blood, the bandaged were still pristine. I didn't understand. Frowning softly, I glanced at the clock.

Time of death 12:00pm.

…..

Ok, so it wasn't Dean. Sorry!


	22. I looked over my shoulder

Hello lovely people! Thank you for your wonderful reviews. I'm sorry to all the people who thought the man in the hospital was Dean, I guess that's everyone. Now I feel like you an explanation, the reason Dean couldn't end up in the hospital and couldn't return sooner are the beautiful pre written chapters. I'll be heartbroken if I don't get to use them; they started the story in the first place. I am so nervous about this chapter…

Thank you for your time and patience.

Keep happy and reviewing!

All my love!

…..

A Soldier's Last Stand.

I looked over my shoulder and there you were.

Bobby.

_When night falls and the moon glows silver, I remember Dean._

…_I remember a frightened, traumatised little boy…clinging to his father with trembling fingers…a darkness in his eyes no child should bare._

_I remember the day I realised that child had become a man…the day he stood up to his family and walked away…_

…_I remember the day his family died…The day the twisted stranger butchered the oldest Winchester son…_

_I never realised that days could merge together, warp into an endless haze and leave the mind numb. _

With a heavy, soul shaking sigh, I carefully folded the remaining clothes into the cardboard box. Gently, I lowered a stripped grey shirt onto a pair of faded jeans. Reminders of Dean littered my house, I saw them when I awoke and before I fell asleep. Too keep my own sanity, I had to put his memory to rest, I needed to put him away. I scrubbed away a rebellious tear as it dribbled down my cheek. Sam's anger would be loud and overpowering, horrified that I could reduce his brother's life to a battered box but eventually he would understand. The memory of Dean would haunt us forever, whispering and screaming in a pain I could only imagine. Dean needed his rest as we needed to be free of him.

I snapped the flaps of the lid shut, swallowing around the lump in my throat. I wrote a hurried, frantic name, bold black letters horrendously labelling a broken life. I pushed away from the wooden table, leaving the box in the kitchen, wishing I could do more than say goodbye and walk away. I wandered up the stairs, pushing open the boy's bedroom door, wincing as it swung on its hinges. I straightened the blankets on Sam's bed, plumping the pillows with exaggerated movements. I paused, suddenly afraid of the memories behind me, the laughter of the dead man I missed terribly. I gulp down a gasp of greedy air and turned to the bed that had belonged to Dean. I hadn't touched it since that fateful night, Sam had curled on it, sobbing in his heartache but the covers hadn't been changed. They remained ruffled, hanging of the frame of the bed and tossed so carelessly about. I hadn't had the strength to change it, my heart had faltered every time I tried. But today, something was changing in the air, a voice whispered at me, coaxing me to tidy it. I tugged on the blankets, straighten the blue blankets and picking up the pillows. I hummed tunelessly under my breath, returning the objects to the bed. I straightened at the cry of the phone, dashing downstairs, bumping against the wall in my haste and scooping up the handset.

"Bobby Singer."

"Bobby, its Caleb."

I frowned, hearing an emotion in the hunter's voice I didn't understand. "What can I do for you?"

"Listen, Bobby. Someone saw Dean leaving a Motel in South Dakota." My breathing faltered, heart clenched and I gripped the wall for support. "Bobby? Are you there?"

"…Where?"

" 'Rambler's Ranch Motel'."

"I know it." _But that's so close…_ "When…When did they see him?"

"Yesterday."

The phone slipped from my sudden trembling fingers, Caleb's voice came muffled through the discarded retriever. It was shock that brought me to my knees in my hallway.

_Dean…Dean…you're dead…Who did they see?_

I picked up the phone, pressing the plastic firmly against my ear "Thank you, Caleb."

I didn't give him and chance to reply, I snapped the phone shut. Rushing for the door, I plucked my keys from the draw and dashed out the front door.

_Monsters playing with my head. Messing with my feelings and my friends._

I pulled into the 'Ramblers Ranch Motel', ignoring the buzzing crowds and the small boy playing with sticks on the ground. I dodged around an elderly man, he huffed at the papers in his hands, crossing his eyes as he stared at them. My interest in him was fleeting and vanished in an instant. I threw open the door to the Motel reception, a young man with faint golden stubble on his face smiled at me. I acknowledged him with a casual nod, my eyes leaping to the fine scar running through his eyebrow.

"Welcome to Ramblers Ranch. Can I help you?" His fingers reached for a pen stealthy, twirling it around aimlessly.

"Yes. I'm looking for this man, have you seen him?" I thrust a picture of Dean into his face. He leant back, allowing his eyes to adjust to the vision and frowned.

"I'm not supposed to give out information on guests. My boss would have me for lunch." He looked terrified by the thought, risking a glance over his shoulder.

"Please, he's my nephew. He ran away last week. He's got diabetes and doesn't have the money for any insulin. He can be so reckless." The kid looked uncomfortable, fidgeting at an old man's plight, drumming his fingertips on the desktop. "His little brother is heartbroken. Please."

"Let me look at the picture again." He instructed, I pressed the glossy snapshot into his hand. "Yeah, he's here. Booked a room for a few weeks. Room 122." He jerked his head to the left, motioning down a dimly lit corridor. "He isn't there now. Left about an hour ago. I think he said he was going to the local pub. It's just down the street, turn left at the broken road sign and its a few minutes after that. Called 'Rising Star.'"

I nodded, tucking the picture carefully back into my pocket with a gently smile. "Thank you so much."

"Good luck. I hope you find him."

I backed away, allowing him to serve the bouncy young couple behind me. I followed his instructions, counting my footsteps until I reached the sign; it was bent at the middle, corners chipping. Apprehension and fear battled inside me, leaving burning wounds as I turned left and hurried down the darkening street. I disregarded the people that bustled past me, the love struck teenagers and wailed, spoilt children. I only wanted to see Dean, to know he was well or kill the creature imitating him. The rustic pub drifted into view over heads and cars, I increased my pace, unable to hold myself back, knowing if I found Dean I could end our nightmare. I pushed open the glass decorated door, a waft of wood smoke rose out at me, catching in my throat before settling in my nose. I moved quietly through the crowds, peering into faces and under hoods for Dean. Moments passed, he remained out of my grasp, disappointment boiled inside me.

_Caleb was wrong…he lied…Dean's never coming home…_

I wanted to sob, I felt them build in my chest but I forced them back. I turned to leave, admit defeat but a man hunched over the bar caught my eye.

I knew the man that face belonged to, those vibrant emerald eyes haunted my dreams. For years, I've stood by his side and walked him through life, being his support when John failed. It was with love and hope in my heart that I'd watched him grow, shed his timid childhood and embrace the beautiful, lethal man I knew. The man I missed. But it was wrong.

_You perished. You burned. You're on some slab in a cold morgue. Not sitting in a bar. Not this close to home._

Anger burned through me, heaven righteous wrath. The creature walking in Dean's skin wasn't him. The body was too perfect, it wasn't burned, and there were no signs it ever had been. The intruder stretched fluidly, sliding a crumpled note onto the worn bar and rising to his feet. I bowed my head and hid myself in shadows as it passed. I caught the door before it could close and followed it into the street. Frigid night air stung at my face, I pulled my coat collar up higher and caught sight of it heading down a nearby side street.

_You die tonight. You'll see. You don't mess with the dead. You don't torment me._

The pace the creature set was leisurely, unaware of how fast I was approaching it, preparing to wrap my hands around its neck. There was barely any noise to its footsteps, it moved like a spectre on snow. Rats scurried around my feet, darting under garbage cans and discarded rubbish. I noticed a flash of neon paint on the mould covered wall but didn't pause to acknowledge it. I increased my sped, the rhythm I moved in steady and unbreakable. I could almost touch it, could see its death written on the wall. I raised my hand to grab its shoulder but it was quicker, its fingers latched onto my wrist. I grunted, startled by its agility and almost didn't notice the knife it clasped tightly. The streetlight glinted of the steel blade, with a surge of adrenaline; I jerked the creature forward and let it stumble to the wall. I ripped myself from its grasp, spinning it around and pinning its back to the wall. The eerily familiar eyes widened in surprise, it struggled against me and pitiful whimper escaping its lips. I pressed harder on its shoulders, my heart stuttering when His voice howled in pain.

"Bobby!"

I wrenched the knife from its fingers, pressing its own blade against its neck. It swallowed, biting down on its lower lip in apprehension. Those passionate eyes blazed with a hidden emotion.

_It's not him. Not Dean. Don't you dare fall for the mind games._

"Bobby, you're hurting me!" It protested and clawed at my wrists. "Let me go!"

"You filth! Monster! How are you doing this?" I demanded, pressing more weight to its writhing body. The body that felt so vulnerable and fragile beneath my suffocating grip.

"D-Doing what?"

"Parading as Dean. That boy's dead….Skinwalker?"

His struggling stopped, frightened eyes fixed on my face. "…No, Bobby. It's really me."

I wanted so badly to believe him. Believe that every prayer sent to an evasive Lord had been heard. But miracles don't happen. Our beautiful boy can never return to us.

"You lie! Don't even think of playing games with me."

"I'm not. Bobby, please, it's really me. I'm Dean!"

"How? How did you survive?"

"I didn't burn that night. Someone else did. Bobby, please, believe me."

I glanced down, regarding the body, trying to see around the lie. Resting against the black fabric of his shirt was a familiar amulet. No one else would know its significance. It should have been on the burnt body and returned to Sam. Confused, I halted, frowning in aggravation.

"Look! I can show you!" It declared. It offered out its arm, waving it in my face. "Cut me! Go on, I'll bleed and then you have to believe me. Bobby please."

I didn't react, startled by bold words and wild eyes. It snatched the knife from my suddenly limp fingers and the blade was against its forearm in a heartbeat. It was hideously wrong to watch a being that looked so much like Dean, stand with a blade pressed against his skin. I jerked forward when he slashed across his skin, blood leaked from the wound, his face tightened in pain but there was no fizzle to his skin. I waited for the sparks underneath the flesh but nothing happened.

"Do you believe me now?" He asked, suddenly so small and lost.

I tugged the knife gently from his fingers, letting it clatter to the floor. Despite the hunter roaring inside me, begging not to be taken in by the façade, I let my grip on him loosen.

"Dean? How can it be you?"

"I survived. I got out."

I stared into his eyes and finally I saw him. Dean Winchester. Our lost family. The tears that become my ever present companion, collected in my eyes again. I pulled him into the circle of my arms, holding him tightly, reluctant to let him go. I grasped his shirt, felt him clutch fistfuls of my jacket. He smelt of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol but he was solid in my grasp. I felt him breathe, his chest rising and falling gracefully. I moved my hand to his throat, his pulse beat rhythmically beneath my fingertips. He was full of life, I felt it burning bright again.

_Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you._

"Where are you staying?" I inquired

"Motel. Down the road."

I nodded and stepped back, I didn't say anything when he kept one hand latched to my sleeve. There was deep, purple bruises under his eyes, his face was pale and for the first time in years, I saw the freckles decorate his face.

"Show me. We'll get your things and then I'm taking you home."

"NO!" I jerked at the volume of his outburst, fixing a startled gaze on him. Dean blushed and hung his head. "I…I don't want to go back yet. Please."

"Whatever you want, Dean." I remembered John's words to Sam. I understood enough of Dean to know he flee if I pushed him too far. One glance at Dean showed my just how close to the edge he was. "We'll go back to the Motel."

His answering smile was small but dazzling, he span on his heel and prowled down the street. I followed him instantly, he never once looked back.

We reached the Motel in which Dean had been hiding. The truck I had given him rested in the car park, the body glistening in the artificial light. The Motel Dean had chosen was run down, paint flaking and cracking, colours mismatching but it was familiar. I wondered if it was comforting to Dean somehow, awakening memories of security. I heard the key click in the lock and wordlessly followed Dean into the room. I frowned at the bare room, aware of the window opened too wide and the pearl bedspreads scattered on the floor. There was none of Dean's belongings anywhere, no clothes or bags. I threw a concerned glance at him, but he'd turned his back on me and was fiddling with the light.

"How long have you been here, Dean?"

He shrugged, before throwing words over his shoulder. "I don't know. A week maybe?"

"Why didn't you ever tell us?"

Dean paced over to the fridge, opening the rusty door and glaring at the contents. "Didn't seem important."

_Oh, Dean…I heard that…what you really meant…You're wrong, boy…YOU ARE IMPORTANT! So very important…_

"You realise everyone thinks you're dead?"

That halted his movements, he turned to glance at me, confusion in his eyes. "But I…left them signs. They were supposed to work it out."

"Signs?"

"Yeah. My jacket and I cut my hand on the window when I jumped out. I left blood behind."

I approached the skittish, nervous boy, wincing when he backed away from me. "What about the body, Dean? Who was he?"

"T-The body? W-What body?" He took a frantic step to the side when the wall stopped his backward retreat. His face had paled dangerously, his bottom lip quivered and his hands clenched into fists.

"It had your jacket on, Dean. Everyone thinks it's you."

"NO! There was no body! None!"

He rushed away from me, a streak of angst and heartache. He didn't run from me, he dashed into the bathroom. I hurried after him, jiggling the handle but knowing it wouldn't do any good, something was pressing on the door, forcing it closed and I couldn't do anything.

"Unlock the door, Dean. Come out and talk to me."

"I won't!"

I sighed, stubbornness and defiance was Dean's greatest flaw but I understood emotions born from grief and the need to protect himself. Slowly, my fingers uncurled from the door handle and I stepped back.

"I'm not leaving you alone, Dean. I'm staying right here, in this room until you come out."

There was no answer from within the bathroom, I groaned miserably. I lowered my body down onto the couch, smiling fondly at the magazines littering the table, cars and bare skinned girls bright on the covers. I fidgeted on the couch, wincing at the broken springs.

"You should sit the other end." Dean commented quietly. "There aren't any lose springs. Found that out the first night. I'm telling ya, something disappeared up my arse."

I laughed at his words, aware that he'd said something very wrong but just unwilling to care. Because I had found Dean again. Weeks of heartache and bitter tears and led me here and finally, I knew Dean breathed again. I turned to face him, he stood half in shadows, hands shoved in pockets.

"I hope you realise how angry I am with you, boy." I growled, but Dean glanced at my from under his eyelashes and my temper faded.

Dean raised his head, a smile twitching on his lips. "I probably deserve it. I think I'm going to sleep now, Bobby."

I nodded, Dean pulled of his jacket, throwing it carelessly to the floor. Underneath the jacket was a red shirt, sleeves falling to his wrists. Fear and concern tugged on my mind, it had been a long time since I saw Dean in a shirt like that. Something was very wrong.

"Hey, kid. You sleep in your jeans now?"

He looked down at his legs, already leaning on the bed, he wobbled dangerously. " Didn't know you swung that way, Bobby. You stay on your side of the room." But he didn't shed his jeans and the blankets were left on the ground beside the bed.

_What on earth is going on with you, Dean?_

…_Can't you tell me?..._

"Where do I sleep?" I grumbled.

"Couch." Dean's reply was sleepy and playful.

I groaned but stretched out on the couch, a scrunched up wool blanket collided with my face and Dean's laughed echoed around me.

"Thank you, Idgit."

"Anytime."

It was the clatter of cutlery that woke me up, I squinted in early morning sunlight, it had barely begun to leak through the blinds. The window was still wide opened, the blankets discarded on the floor.

"Good morning, Bobby!" Dean greeted.

"What's the time?" I grunted

"A little after six."

"In the morning?"

"No, shit Sherlock."

I sat slowly up, wincing at my aging body. "That's early."

Dean leant around the wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the room, a playful smile on his face. "Wow, you're sharp this morning. Don't cut yourself."

I rose, wandering toward the kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching Dean riffling through cupboards and doors.

"What's for breakfast?"

He threw a glance over his shoulder, laughter alight in his eyes. I froze momentarily, today it looked so forced, I couldn't remember if that had been the case yesterday.

"Urm…A surprise Dean Winchester style?"

"Should I be afraid?"

"Probably."

_God…I missed you, kid…_

I settled on the couch, switching on the television, content to let the voices lull me into security. Dean shoved a bowl in front of me, flipping a spoon onto my lap.

"What's this?"

"Something sugary. One of us will end up with diabetes."

He flopped down next to me, wincing as he sat, mumbling under his breath. He jumped up, glaring at the couch. "Stupid springs."

"You wanna sit here? I can move."

"Nope." He lowered himself to the floor, leaning back against the arm of the couch. "Oh, yuck, Bobby! What are we watching?"

I raised my gaze to the screen, laughing when a blonde haired woman flung her arms around a burly, scruffy looking man. Dean scrunched his nose and hunted for the remote. With a cry of triumph, he fumbled with the buttons and suddenly ravenous vampires flickered into life. He settled back, lifting the bowl higher, toying with the spoon.

"Dean. We need to tell Sam and John that you're alive. They're devastated, son." He froze as soon as I spoke and I cursed myself.

_Don't push him, Bobby. He's not ready yet. Push too hard and he'll run. You can bet you'll never find him._

"Not yet."

"You'll have to tell them sometime."

"I know. But not today."

"I don't understand, Dean. Why don't you want them to know?"

"This whole time…I thought they knew…How can I just call them up and say 'Hi Dad! Hey, Sammy. Yeah, so, I faked my death but thought you'd understand. But I'm alive and I'm living in a Motel a few miles from Bobby's house. Oh yeah, I'm not coming home.' They'll love that."

"Son, you know they're not at my house, right?"

He swung his body around, confusion etched onto his face, his food forgotten on the floor. "Where are they?"

"AutumDale. They've been there for about a week. John left as soon as he heard you scream, Sam wouldn't be left behind."

"So, they'll be back soon."

"No. They won't." Dean looked frightened at my words, I hurried to sooth him. But he had to know, had to understand what had happened. "They found the body, Dean. Right where you should have been. They think it's you."

"Sammy saw?"

"Yeah. He saw."

Dean bolted to his feet, a trembling hand clasped over his lips and staggered toward the bathroom. I hurried after him, catching sight of him as he crashed to his knees and leaned over the porcelain toilet bowl. His body shuddered, I grimaced as his stomach forced the bile up his throat, it echoed wetly as it hit the water in the toilet. His hands clenched the rim, knuckles straining, gasping between heaves. I dropped to my knees beside him, resting my large hand on the back of his neck.

"No no no no no no. He wasn't supposed to see. Nooo."

I sat beside him as he vomited endlessly, crying softly at the force.

_What's happened to you, Dean?_

…

The much anticipated return of Dean Winchester. I hope it didn't let anybody down.


	23. Some secrets stretch to far

Hello wonderful people. Thank you so very much for your stunning reviews. However, I am so sorry that Dean's return appeared to disappoint a few people. I hope this chapter makes up for it.

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

….

A Soldier's Last Stand.

Some secrets stretch too far.

Bobby.

_I've found you…it's been so long…_

…_You're lying to me…I know you are…Why are you?_

_Your daddy cries a night, angel boy._

_Asking when are you coming home?_

"_I miss you, son. The world's too cold and it hurts so bad._

_I didn't get a chance to kiss goodnight or tell you the dreams I had for you._

_I promised to save you but only let you crash."_

_Baby brother broken on the stairs,_

_Caught in memories of yesteryear._

_Murmuring: "Please God, give him back to me. I'll go to church every Sunday._

_I'll do better, I'll be good._

_I'll clean my room and wash his car._

_I love him too much and I never said goodbye._

_Please, God. Bring him back."_

_Friends you left behind, hide behind closed doors._

_Screaming endless questions:_

_WHY? Why you?_

"_I thought I saw you in my mirror last night. The beautiful face in my dreams._

_But when I turned around, you'd fled from me._

_I'm losing myself to you and the memories we'll never make."_

_The world keeps turning,_

_They keep breathing._

_And you're never coming home._

_But I…I know better._

"_You have to let the world know, that you breathe and pulse with life._

_But you keep refusing me and dispassionately turn away."_

_I know you weep and cry and beg and scream._

_I hold you tight, to chase away your terrors. _

_I know you're scarred._

_They don't know I found you._

_I'll keep you safe, beautiful boy._

_At least until the sun sets over the hills._

_Even though, _

_Some secrets stretch too far._

I sat wordlessly beside Dean, the night had crept in, too fast and much too dark. The curtains fluttered in the midnight breeze, the frame banned from closing. I stood, reaching out to free Dean's legs from the tangle of his blankets. I caught myself circling my thumbs on the fabric of his jeans over his ankles. He wouldn't tell me what happened to him; he clutched those secrets tight to his chest. I didn't understand why the window had to stay opened or why the blankets ended up banished to the floor every night. I feared the reason for the layers of clothes he wore, the hell he concealed with them.

I sighed, turning from his side and wandering into the kitchen. I tugged open the battered fridge door, frowning at the bare shelves and naked bulb. It was a nervous, concerned glance I threw over my shoulder at the sleeping boy. The shelves had no food, only alcohol, I panicked slightly. Wrenching overhead cupboards open and draws, the story repeated itself. Dean hadn't brought food with him into the motel room, just the poison that slowly decayed him. I refused to believe he could have fallen that hard and so fast but he wasn't talking and I could only watch him start to spiral down.

_I'm dangerously out of my league here._

…_Perhaps I should call John…_

A moan rose from the bed, deep and agonised and I span around, startled. Dean tossed his body across the bed and I darted to his side. His face screwed up against a pain I couldn't touch, sweat beaded and glistened on his forehead. I pressed my hands to his shoulders, holding him to the bed when he went to recoil from his nightmares. His breaths escaped his lips in large, frantic gasps and a dart of panic struck in my heart.

"Dean. Wake up! Boy, it's a dream. You're safe."

He couldn't hear me, the monsters in his mind too strong. He whimpered and thrashed against my grip, the noises he made grew more feral. He hissed, teeth barring and clawed at my arms, leaving bloody thin scratches on my skin. I ignored the sting and caught his hands in my own. A low desperate scream built up in his throat and I shook his body harshly, fear capturing my sense. It was with horror I acknowledged the tears squeezing from under tightly closed eyelids and flowing down pale cheeks. His hands trembled in my grasp, fingers curling into clenched fists in my grip.

"Ssh! Dean, it's Bobby. I really need you to wake up right now. Please."

_Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. This is too much. I'm on my knees, kid. Wake up._

Dean's eyelids fluttered; relieved I loosened my grip on him and started to lean away. Dean's response was instantaneous and unbelievably quick. A demented, chilling cry escaped his lips and he swung his fist wildly upwards and collided with my jaw. The force of his blow sent me crashing to the stained floor; I clutched at my battered face and struggled to reign in my scattered breaths. I laid motionless on the floor for a stunned moment, pain reaching up toward my temple. A strange sense of hurt and betrayal shot down my spine but I dismissed it just as quick. Gingerly, I ran my tongue over my teeth, relieved to find only blood from my bitten cheek. I dabbed at the blood escaping my mouth with my crinkled shirt cuff, frowning at the crimson stains.

"Damn you Idgit. What was that for?" I growled, slowly pushing my tired body from the floor.

I glanced at the bed and chocked on my heart. Dean wasn't there. I couldn't see his form in the shadows and fear had a suffocating, sudden hold on me.

"Dean? Where are you, boy?"

My pulse beat in time with my panic, drumming a familiar beat inside my mind. A whine pierced through the shadows and I searched franticly for the source. I felt something inside me wither when I found Dean, curled small and shaking in a bath of moonlight beneath the open window. I crept toward him, kneeling down quietly beside him and swallowed thickly. Dean cringed away from the hand I rested on his shoulder, retreating further into himself, burying his face in his knees. I heard frightened, almost inaudible sobs leave his throat and watched as his body shook. I lowered myself fully to the ground, resting my body against the flowery wallpaper. The muscles in his body tensed as I creaked down beside him, he inched slowly away.

"Dean? Can you hear me?" I inquired.

Moments later Dean nodded timidly. Relief stirred in my heart. I reached out again, pressing my fingertips against the back of his neck. He tensed for a second, his breath catching in his throat before he accepted my touch and relaxed fractionally. He didn't lift his face toward me, just let out a small wail of distress.

"You're safe, Dean. You were only dreaming." But some part of me knew it was more than that.

Dean barely responded to my words, I thought I saw the smallest movement of his head before he fell still again. I saw the boy in the man at that moment, felt his naked, raw fear and wished fate had been kind to him. Dean's fingers found a tight grip on his short hair, pulling fiercely at the roots. His head thrashed in his grip, he could have been rebelling against the monsters in his mind. I stilled the frantic movement of his head, guiding it to rest against my shoulder. He hesitated for a heartbeat and curled against my side.

"Uncle Bobby?" He questioned in a voice so timid I had to bite back my tears.

"Yeah?"

"Did you miss me?"

"Yes."

"Did Dad and Sam?"

"Not a day went by when they weren't thinking or looking for you."

"Do you think they'll hate me? Because I lied to them?" He lifted his head to stare at me with a trust I'd never seen before.

"No. They just want you home, boy." I soothed. Apparently appeased by my answer, Dean's head sank back down onto my shoulder. "Do you want to go back to bed, Dean?"

"Can we stay here?" I heard his voice start to bow to sleep but he pushed his body closer to my side.

"Sure."

I stretched my legs out and let Dean arrange himself against me. He gave a weary sigh and blinked sluggishly.

"I'm sorry if I worried you." He apologised. "Just…needed…space…"

"Ssh. I know."

I sat beneath the window, framed by the silver moonlight and comforted Dean as he slept. Knowing that his dreams thrived just below the calm surface.

_I'm sorry, Dean. But I am taking you home._

I awoke with a groan the next morning, rubbing at a kink that had developed in the muscles of my neck. Dean was absent from my side, the space beside me cold and bare. Stretching my body and rising to my feet, I heard the hum of the shower and trickle of water. Satisfied that Dean was near and still functioned, I turned to flick through the channels on the television. I folded myself onto the worn couch, careful to avoid the spring scrapping the surface of the cushions. I darted through channels in a mindless haze, my attention on the man behind the closed door. I heard the lock click and the door swing open, I tossed a glance in Dean's direction and froze.

"Jesus, Dean." I breathed.

Dean lowered his gaze to the floor in a instance, clutching his shirt to his chest in a useless attempt to hide the damage I had already seen. The heat of the flames had blistered Dean's youthful skin, turning it an angry, raw pink and disfigured. The wounds climbed up his arms in wild tendrils, reaching from his shoulder blades down to his elbows. A dark patchwork of bruises had stretched across his chest, mingling hideously with the burns and puckered skin. I moved toward him, gently tugging his shirt away from him, he let it fall to the ground wordlessly. I studied the burns and cringed when the indentations of his ribs could be seen through his skin. Dean's weight had disappeared, disintegrating in the heat of the fire. I swallowed back my guilt and disgust at his injuries. Dean refused to meet my eyes, his gaze fixed solely on his feet but I saw the quiver in his chin.

"Did you go to the hospital for these, Dean?"

He nodded and wordlessly pushed some bandages into my hands. I understood the silent message and carefully wrapped them around his biceps and chest. I mumbled apologies every time he winced in pain but he waved them away.

"Are you burnt anywhere else?"

"My legs. I took care of them." He whispered.

_It never even occurred to me that you'd be so badly hurt. Have you suffered in silence all this time?_

Dean bent down and scooped the shirt from the floor, pulling it hastily over his head. He battered my hands away when I went to help him. He turned and rummaged through his bag, hooking a bottle of pills toward him.

"Painkillers." He clarified.

I gave a sharp nod of understanding and watched as he hid them deep inside his bag. He shrugged on a navy blue button-up shirt and one hand wandered to his neck. He sighed and glanced in the mirror above the desk.

"Do you think they found my amulet? I miss it." He asked, hand still clenched around his shirt. I accepted his attempt to deflect my attention and answered him truthfully.

"I honestly can't say but I would imagine so." My weak words were enough to light a dim smile on his face. "You're out of food, Dean. C'mon I'm taking you out to lunch."

"It's only ten in the morning." He commented with amusement.

"Don't argue with me." I growled but my tone was light and the bite forgotten. "This offer will only last so long."

"Who am I to turn down a free meal?" But I saw a shadow creep onto his face.

_Yeah…I saw that Dean…_

I scooped up my wallet, shoving it into my back pocket and turned to wait for Dean to shove his feet into his combat boots. He turned and stretched over the bed, snatching his wallet and phone from the bedside table. He fumbled through the contents, fake IDs and credit cards bright against the black material. He slipped it into his pocket and flicked open his phone and his face fell. He clutched the phone tightly for a moment, his knuckles turned white and his eyes closed in agony. He whispered something I couldn't hear and let out a shaky breath. I stood bewildered, silent as he slid it into his pocket.

"Right." He grinned, spinning around it face me. But I saw the darkness behind emerald eyes. "I'm ready now. Where are we going?"

I shrugged. "The first diner we see."

Dean flinched slightly but nodded. "Let's go."

He stepped passed me and disappeared out of the open door. I followed a heartbeat later and knew I was starting to lose him.

"Bobby? Have you spoken to Tessa and Nick? Do you know if they're OK? Dean questioned, the diner buzzing around us.

I smiled at the blonde waitress as she placed our orders onto the table and flashed a seductive smile at Dean. He responded with a ghost of his normal grin but it was enough to fluster her and send her away with dusted cheeks.

"I think your Daddy mentioned Tessa and Nick. They're devastated but physically they're all right."

Dean sighed and fidgeted on the padded seat. "I didn't mean to upset them. I didn't think."

"You're going to tell them you're alive?"

He shrugged, listing one shoulder that brushed just below his jaw but his eyes shone with something I couldn't identify.

"Do you think they'll want to see me again? I mean, their diner burnt down and Nick lost his apartment." He lifted a hand to pick at the bread of his sandwich and mould the dough into a small ball.

"None of that was your fault." I protested. "I really don't think Nick will care that he lost his diner. I think knowing you're alive will make up for it."

Dean gave a noncommittal grunt and sank lower down into his chair, crossing his arms defiantly against his chest.

"I suppose Nick lost a lot of money. I hope he can recover from it."

"Enough, Dean. They won't mind." Dean nodded but he didn't believe me. "Eat your food."

But he only pushed the food around the plate, twirling fries in his fingertips before folding them into his mouth. He grimaced when he chewed, before catching my eyes and looking apologetic. I smiled away his apology and picked up my own sandwich.

"I miss the Impala." He commented suddenly. "Where is she?"

I swallowed the mouthful of sandwich, relieved to see a spark of the Dean I remembered. "Your Daddy has her. He took good care of her."

Dean smiled, a fragile smile but it beamed like a sunrise. "Dad and Sam are OK, aren't they?"

"They miss you. Sam really wants his big brother back."

Dean chewed on his lip, guilt swirling him passionate eyes. "Have I taken this too far?"

"I think you might have. You can't hide forever. And now I know you're alive. I won't let you run away again."

A faint trickle of amusement lit up Dean's face and he nodded slowly. "I know, Bobby. Sam won't look away from me when he sees me."

Hope was suddenly thick in my gut, settling inside me. "You'll go back?"

"Soon." He appeased.

Dean had a different spring in his step when we walked back to the Motel, I couldn't identify it. He walked two paced ahead of me, arms swinging by his sides. He clicked open the motel door and threw the key onto the table before I'd even seen the door.

"I'm going to have a shower." He called over his shoulder and disappeared into the bathroom.

"OK, Princess." I retorted.

Dean's response was muffled by the wooden door that slammed shut between us. I smiled fondly and set my coat down on the bed. The robotic tones of my phone startled me into action and I patted down my pockets. I brought the small piece of technology to my ear, forgetting to look at the ID flashing across the screen.

"Singer." I greeted.

"Hi, Bobby." Sam's voice was faked happiness and light.

_Oh God, Kid. Your big brother's here with me and I can't tell you. I'm so sorry._

"Afternoon, Sam. What's up?"

Sam clicked his tongue and I stretched out on the bed, crossing my ankles and shoving my coat onto the floor.

"Dad went out to talk to Nick again. I wondered how you were."

"I'm fine, Sam. Following up on a few leads is all. Anyway, how are you?"

I imagined Sam shrugged and wondered how tired and broken he must be. A part of me prayed John knew that Sam was suffering and had probably she countless tears.

"I'm…coping." Liar. "It's got to get easier one day, right?"

I sighed, dragging my hand over my eyes and swallowing on the force of my deceit. Dean hummed in the shower, loud enough for me to hear but Sam couldn't hear it. Dean's measly possession littered a room that wasn't his, one he never should have been in.

"It doesn't get easier, Sam. You grow stronger."

_But don't grow strong, kid. I'm bringing home a miracle._

"I really miss him, Bobby. I can't stop thinking about how much he must have hurt. He must have been so frightened."

"I imagine so."

_Dean hasn't told me anything. I know there's more than what I've seen._

A sob echoed down the phone and I clutched the plastic of mine tighter. "Don't cry, Sam. It'll be OK."

"How?"

I didn't have time to answer, Sam hung up on me with a click and the bathroom door opened. I threw the phone onto the bed and turned to acknowledge Dean. His hair glistened from water and his shirt clung to his damp skin. He hovered nervously before me, sweeping his hair away from his eyes.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to go home."

….

I'm sorry it's so short!


	24. My guardian Angel returned

Hello everyone! I can't believe it, over 200 reviews. Thank you so much for your support and kind words. I never dreamed this would be anywhere near as popular as it is.

WARNING! DREAM SCENE COULD BE CONSIDERED GRAPHIC!

Keep happy and reviewing!

All my love X!

…..

A Soldier's Last Stand.

My guardian Angel returned.

Sam.

"_It doesn't get easier. You get stronger."_

_I'm waiting for that moment when I know I'm stronger. For the second in time when I think back to Dean and laugh. _

_One day, I'll be strong enough to remember my older brother and smile._

…_.It just won't be today…or tomorrow…or the day after…or the month after…or the year after…_

"I love you, Dean. I wish I'd told you before you…died…"

The gravel stones crunched underneath my feet, groaning as I spread my weight on them. The breeze swept through the ruins, tugging lightly on my hair, playing with the strands. The air still smelt faintly of smoke, the scent caught forever in the moment. The urge to weep rose in my chest and died just as quickly. My hands clasped a secret between brothers, a perfect plastic green solider, its twin safe and buried inside the Impala. I knelt down in front of Tessa's wilting tribute, tenderly stroking the faded yellow rose petals and sweeping silk lilies away from her smudged words. I nestled the solider amongst the flowers, stroking its emerald helmet before folding my hands onto my lap. The sunset behind me, casting ruby and pink light onto the wreckage off the diner. I smiled wistfully and flicked my fringe away.

"Goodbye, Dean." I whispered. "I'll see you in Heaven one day." A shadow fell over me, leather and gunpowder replaced the smoke coating the air. "I'm just saying goodbye, Dad."

"Giving up so soon, Sammy?" It wasn't Dad's voice that answered me.

My heart caught in my throat, sweat broke out on my palms and I span around, kicking up dust clouds around my feet. I couldn't swallow the terrified scream that built up behind my lips, it rang out in the silence around me. I scrambled backward, away from the nightmare I recognised, wailing in denial and torment.

"What's the matter, Sam? Didn't you miss me?"

I couldn't do anything but gape at the horror before me. The man looming over me had no recognisable features. His skin was charred, flesh withered and peeling, curling away from the structure of his face. His hair had been burnt away, eyebrows singed from his face, he smiled at me through cracked lips and his tongue was blood slick and crimson. The clothes he had been wearing had melted onto his skin, smouldering and bubbling against his body. A necklace glittered in the light, I recognised the crude shape and metal work. I swallowed back another desperate whimper and shook my head wildly. Then I made the mistake of glancing back into the figure's face and meeting the brilliant emerald eyes that had always belonged to my brother.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean's smile was wrong on his burnt face. There was no agony in his eyes, no fear or death. He stretched his arms above his head, exposing ugly, weeping and raw gashes on his torso. I watched his heart beat uselessly underneath his ribs. "Welcome to Hell. Don't worry. Dying doesn't really hurt."

He grinned again, emerald eyes flashing with twisted love and his disfigured fingers reached out for me.

I screamed and thrashed wildly, clawing at the arms pinning my shoulders down.

"SAM! SAM! WAKE UP!" Authority. Safety. Warmth. Dad.

I wrenched myself from my nightmare, Dad's eyes were wide and anxious above me. My chest heaved, gulping down mouthfuls of air that I couldn't hold. I sobbed fearfully, glancing around the room, not entirely sure what I was searching for. There was a fine layer of sweat on my forehead and my blankets had tangled around my feet. It was then I realised it was Dad's hands pressing me to the bed, restraining my frantic movements. He knelt down on the floor beside me, letting his arms slide away from me.

"Sammy?" He inquired softly.

"Dean? Is he…still dead?" I whispered, my gaze locked on Dad's worn face.

His eyes twisted in agony, his hands locking onto mine and it didn't occur to me to be surprised. "Yeah. He is. You didn't dream that."

Tears sprang to my eyes, acidic and strong. My lower lip quivered and my lashed collected the crystal drops that fell.

"I know." I sobbed. "I just hoped I had."

Dad gathered me into his arms, letting me curl into his arms, all the while knowing I wished he was someone else.

I stepped out of the shower at Dad's unrelenting summons, hearing his voice grow in agitation the longer I remained unresponsive. I hurried into my jeans, stumbling and losing my balance in my haste to appease my Dad. I flung open the bathroom door, fumbling with my zip and belt as I skidded to a stop in front of him.

"What's wrong?" I questioned, snatching my socks from my back pocket and stuffing my feet into them.

"That was Bobby on the phone. He says we're needed back at his house urgently."

I stood, one foot bare and frowned at my Dad. "Urgently? Is he OK?"

Dad stared at the phone in his hand in almost confusion. "He sounded…strange and I swear…I heard someone else with him."

"Another hunter?"

"I guess so." He straightened up and captured my eye. I saw as my Dad slipped away and cringed at the Hunter that replaced him. "Pack up your things, Sam. We're leaving."

My stomach curled and I looked stubbornly away from Dad. I nodded sharply and hooked my bag from the floor.

"What about Dean?" I inquired

Dad swallowed fiercely but didn't lift is gaze away from the clothes he clasped. "Dean's dead, Sam. A demon got him. We may never find it. There's nothing for us here."

"NO! What about Tessa and Nick?"

Dad shrugged one shoulder, lifting it so his shirt collar brushed against his jaw. "What about them?"

"We can't leave them. There's still a Demon out there."

Dad shook his head, zipping the bag shut with a force. "The Demon got what it came for. Dean's dead and isn't coming back. Pack your things, Sam."

I accepted Dad's crude attempt to shut me down and tossed my crumpled clothes into the bottom of the bag.

_I know the Demon won, Dad. I know it tore the beating heart from us. But why can't we fight? We can still end it._

But Dad had stopped looking back; he had stopped seeing Dean as his son. Dean had become another whispered tale and another bad dream.

Dean had followed where mum had lead. Now, Dad couldn't see him.

I followed Dad out of the room, silent and obedient and the ghost of my brother wept behind me.

The Impala stopped gracefully in Bobby's yard; I stepped out, stretching aching limbs and gazed at the shell of a regal house that didn't look right anymore. Dad swept a cautious, calculating gaze around the yard, searching for the cause of Bobby's urgent call. I followed his example, peering into hollow cars and shadows. Satisfied, Dad's strides toward the house were large and powerful, I darted after him.

"Dad, the bags?" I called

"Leave them." He shot over his shoulder.

I nodded and increased my speed to walk beside him. He straightened suddenly, hands curling into fists in anticipation. I glanced up, Bobby stood silently on the porch, watching our approach. He nodded to Dad in a welcome and fixed piercing eyes on me.

"Sam. How are you?" I gulped around the lump that had never left my throat and shrugged. Bobby nodded. "I'm sorry to call you both up here at such bad time but it's urgent. John, wait here. I need to speak with Sam alone."

I was slightly stung by Bobby's harsh voice and nodded in synch with Dad. Bobby beckoned me to him and stalked down the wooden floorboards. I tripped after him, jogging lightly to walk in the echo of his footsteps.

"Bobby? Has something happened?" I inquired once he jerked to a stop.

"You could say that." He mumbled before spinning around to face me. I jumped in surprise at the vibrant smile on his face and the light in his eyes. Suspicion gnawed on my insides and narrowed my eyes.

"I don't follow you."

The excitement in his eyes made me giddy but didn't dissolve the concern swirling in my gut. It had been a long time since I'd seen Bobby this delighted and it tempted a smile onto my face.

"Right. Sam. I need you to do something for me. There's someone waiting inside for you and no matter what you do, do NOT get angry. Am I understood?"

"Y-yeah but why would I be angry?" I questioned.

"Keep an open mind and just listen."

Bobby didn't give me a chance to answer, he pushed open his front door, ignoring it when the hinges groaned and walked back toward Dad. Confused, I stepped into Bobby's house, the smells hauntingly familiar and distinct. I padded forward, peering around corners and down corridors.

"Hello? Anyone here?" I called into the empty space.

I moved forward into the kitchen, a something clinked on wood, hurried and distinct. Intrigued, I entered the kitchen and swallowed my heart.

Emerald eyes that held a love only his soul could posses, stared hesitantly back at me. There was a fine dusting of stubble on his jaw, purple bruises dark underneath his eyes. Freckles I hadn't seen for years littered his face, kissing the bridge of his nose. He linked his fingertips together underneath my disbelieving stare. I grasped at the back of a chair, feeling my legs shake wildly beneath me, struggling with my sudden heavy body. Concern flickered across his face, his climbed gracefully to his feet, leather ruffling as his moved.

"Sammy?"

"H-How can it be you?" I gasped. "P-Prove it!"

"OK." He dug deep into his pocket, extracting a slim, lethal knife that I'd seen kill countless times before. He rolled his sleeve back slightly, enough to expose skin and dug the blade into his flesh. He winced as the blood blossomed and flowed down his hand and dribbled onto the floor. Reaching onto the table behind him, he picked up the glass I'd heard and waved it in my face. "Holy water. Bobby gave it to me." He raised the glass to his lips without hesitation, pressing the rim against his mouth and letting the liquid trickle down his throat. There was no reaction to the water, he didn't wince or scream in agony. "There? See?"

Frightened and confused, I hung back, staring at the living phantom of my dead brother. "You're supposed to be dead."

Something close to hurt flickered in his eyes. "I'm not. I'm real, Sammy."

He extended his hand toward me but never moved to touch me. Timidly, I approached him, locking my eyes with his. I pressed my fingertips against the warm palm, feeling callused skin but remember security. Feeling slightly braver, I stepped into his shadow, moving my hand to touch the skin above his heart. He tensed momentarily underneath me but relaxed within a second. I felt his heart trip steadily against my hand and when I pressed against his neck, I felt the blood pulse through his veins. I touched his jaw with trembling fingertips, tracing his strong jawline and feeling the sharp hairs. I ghosted my hands over his face, feeling his eyelids slide shut when my fingers passed over them. With a cry, I abandoned me fears and doubts, throwing myself into my brother's arm. He grunted underneath my weight but embraced me back just as quickly. I felt his chest rise rhythmically underneath my head as I clung to the fabric of his shirt.

"Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean."

"Ssh. I'm back now. Ssh." His voice hadn't changed, time hadn't altered the security and love that I felt around him.

I sobbed brokenly into his chest, feeling him play with strands of my hair and rub my back comfortingly.

"You died. I saw you."

I felt him shake his head against mine. "It wasn't mine. I'm all right, Sammy."

"I missed you."

"I missed you, kiddo."

"I love you."

He smiled softly; I heard it in his voice. "Same here. Stop crying, Sam. You're getting snot on my shirt."

I laughed, rubbing my nose against his chest and hearing him huff in playful annoyance. "I missed you." I repeated and suddenly found a crack of anger. I jerked away from him, starling him enough to let him comply with me. "I missed you, jerk! Where were you?"

He didn't answer me, choosing to look evasively away. With a strangled cry, I beat my fist into his stomach. He doubled over, coughing violently and groaning. My anger dissolved when he glanced up at me with wounded eyes. Tears were in my eyes again when he straightened and regarded me with suspicion in his eyes. I forced myself into the circle of his arms again, feeling him hold me back within and instant.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I wept.

"It's all right, Sam. I expect I deserved it."

I let a laugh bubble from my lips and just clung to him in the middle of the kitchen. He smelt of leather and Bobby's musty library, I inhaled greedily.

"Thank you." I whispered. " For coming home."

Dean didn't answer, only held me tighter. But then the door burst open with an angry wrath and the peace shattered.

I glanced at the intruder from Dean's chest, my hands tightening on him in reflex. Dad stood, transfixed in the kitchen doorway, a frozen anger in his eyes. Dean stiffened, his grip loosened on me and I let out a soundless whimper.

"…Dad…?" Dean's voice was hesitant and frightened but it was enough to drag Dad back in to reality.

"Get away from it, Sam." Dad growled and Dean tensed, automatically releasing me.

I started to protest. "Dad, its Dean."

"NO!" Dad surged forward with a speed I didn't know he possessed and grasped Dean's shirt collar. I heard my brother cry out in alarm and watched him struggle. But Dad was stronger, shoving Dean against the brick wall before I could breathe. Dean screamed, his face contorted in pain and scrabbled at Dad's wrists. "What are you?"

"Let him go!" I cried. "It's him! I did all the tests."

"He tricked you. Your brother's dead, Sam."

"I'm not, Dad." Dean's voice was tight and strained but Dad forced him closer to the wall and Dean broke off with a groan.

"You're hurting him, Dad. Please, let go." I begged, tugging on Dad's arms with a strength born from fear. Dad just pressed his body against Dean, anger like hellfire in his eyes.

"JOHN!" Bobby cried, darting into the kitchen with horror on his face. "LET THE BOY GO! I DID THE TESTS, TWICE!"

Finally listening to us, Dad released some of the pressure he'd had on my brother. Dean jerked a cough, struggling to push away from the wall, despite the grip Dad still had on him.

"You did the test?" Dad inquired.

"Yeah. From the look of his hand so did Sam."

Dad glanced down at Dean's forearms; I followed his eyes and let out a startled cry. The flow of blood hadn't stopped; it had smeared on Dad's skin and dribbled onto the floor. Dad jerked away from Dean, eyes wide and shocked. Dean curled his bloody arm into his chest, wincing as he pulled his body away from the wall.

"Are you all right, Dean?" Bobby questioned.

"I'll live."

Bobby nodded, appeased by Dean's words. Dean jumped when Dad pressed a damp washcloth against the raw wound on his arm. Dean's eyes locked on Dad's instantly, alert but fearful. Dad's attention was focused on the blood and the healthy arm of his son. Finally though, he met Dean's eyes and I cringed under emotion that wasn't directed at me. Dean watched Dad cautiously; I saw a calculating mind observe the man before him in confusion. A surprised yelp left his throat when Dad suddenly snatched him into a fierce embrace. But soon, Dean's face had fallen into the hollow of Dad's shoulder and his hands were gripping at Dad's shirt.

"Jesus, son. I thought you weren't coming home." Dad's voice battled with tears.

"I'm sorry. Things got…hectic."

"You couldn't even call us?" Dad broke away from Dean's grip to question him.

Dean stared stubbornly down at the floor again; I knew he was searching for a lie to appease us. "No, Sir. I couldn't."

"Are you lying to me, boy?"

"No, sir."

_Yes you are._

But at that moment, I didn't care. I slipped back into Dean's embrace, nuzzling my face against his chest, feeling a laugh rumble deep inside him.

_I missed you. I missed you. I missed you. I missed you._

I followed Dean to our bedroom that night, unable to leave his side, afraid he'd disappear if I looked away. Dean didn't seem to care; there was amusement in his eyes when I trailed after him, often sitting closer to him than I needed to. But he'd been gone for over four weeks and my heart wasn't courageous enough to try to fix itself yet. The chipped edges had only just begun to meet in the middle and I couldn't let them break apart again.

Dean stretched out on the bed closet to the door, linking his fingertips behind his head and closing his eyes. I gazed at him, memorising the man I thought I'd never see again. The artificial light bounced of his face, casting his nose in shadow but highlighting his hair. Dean had become to antidote to the gapping, festering wound in my soul.

"I need sleep, Sammy." Dean mumbled.

"All right. I'll go get changed."

I scooped up boxers and Dean's baggy T-shirt, a fond laugh echoed from his bed at it but I hugged it against my chest. I darted into the bathroom, hurried in my attempts to change and be back by my brother's side. It barely took me three turns of the clocks hands, to shed my clothes and be back with Dean. He'd slipped into lose jogging bottoms and a white long sleeve shirt, the blankets kicked low down on his legs. The room was colder than it had been when I left, the net curtains fluttered in the evening breeze, I frowned.

"Did you open the window, Dean?"

"Yeah. I got hot."

"Oh! OK."

Dean opened one eye to smile at me, a smile that shook the cobwebs from my soul and ignited a fire in my mind again. His eye slid closed, a sigh of contentment left him and he nestled deeper onto the bed. I stood in the middle of the room, caught between my bed and Dean's arms. Eventually, my fear won and I crept into Dean's bed. The mattress dipped underneath my weight and Dean frowned. But I couldn't let him force me away, I refused to leave his side. I stretched out beside him, pillowing my head on his stomach. Dean froze for a moment and I waited for the words I knew would come. Instead, his fingers swept along my temple, flicking my hair away from my eyes.

"Go to sleep, Sammy. I'll be here in the morning." He soothed.

I latched onto his shirt, straining and crumpling the fabric but not caring. "I love you, Dean."

He squeezed my shoulders tight for a second before relaxing back onto the bed and letting silence fill the air between us. Minutes later, the bedroom door eased open and Dad slipped into the room. He caught my eye and smiled softly, before creeping across the room and lowering his body onto the spare bed. His gaze found Dean and a true smile bloomed on his face but Dean never saw it. Dean never made any attempt to acknowledge Dad but I knew he was aware. I nuzzled closer to him, lulled by the gentle movements of his chest and let myself be swept away by dreams and a promised of tomorrow.


	25. In the paper sunrise

Hello everyone! Late again, sorry. Thank you for reviews!

Keep happy and reviewing!

Much love!

…..

A Soldier's Last Stand.

In the paper sunrise.

Sam.

…_I thought the candle had burnt out long ago…your candle…_

_I was waiting to follow you to dark and set the paper sunset ablaze._

…_Now, you're back. You breathe and laugh with me again…_

_You walk by my side, where you belong._

…_And if mankind had been given wings… I'd fall from grace to keep you safe…_

Dean's chest fell steadily underneath my cheek, in his sleep his breaths caught in his throat. I curled myself closer against him, pushing my head underneath his jaw and gripping the cuff of his shirt tightly. He stirred and murmured softly, stretching his fingertips against the mattress but instantly stilled. Dean's solid body against mine calmed the pace of my frantic heart and banished away the nightmares. The faceless screaming phantom had forced me into the waking world and the dark had fed the fear and loneliness I thought would grow with me. But Dean was there. He saved me without knowing it and I couldn't stop touching him. Dad snored in the corner, bathed in moonlight and fidgeted in his chair. A part of me felt guilty that I hadn't offered to share the bed with him but that meant sharing Dean and letting him go. Something I couldn't comprehend, so I ignored my father's soft groans. I sighed and slowly pressed my body closer against my brother, gently entangling our legs. Dean would be furious when he woke up but I didn't care. I needed the comfort and I needed him.

"Go to sleep, Sam." Dad whispered suddenly. I jumped in reflex and lifted my head to glare at him through the darkness. "You'll wake Dean up. Lord knows he needs his rest."

Despite the man in my arms, I flinched. "I know, Dad. But he's here. I didn't think I'd ever see him again."

Dad rose from the chair, creeping across the room to kneel by Dean's head. He lifted his hand and danced his fingers through Dean's short hair, soft enough to not disturb Dean's slumber. In the dim light, I saw Dad smile and lean closer to us.

"But we have him back. He's not going anywhere." Dad soothed.

"I won't let him!" I declared, increasing my possessive hold on my sleeping sibling.

Dad laughed quietly. "I don't think any of us are going to let him leave." I lowered my head back down to Dean's chest and yawned. "I saw that Sam. Go back to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

Dad's hand was suddenly carding through my hair, fingertips dancing lightly on my scalp. My brother's breathing became my lullaby and this time I didn't hesitate to fall asleep.

Gentle movements startled me awake; my sleep muddled mind only understood that Dean was leaving me. Frightened, I lurched forward, wrapping my arms around his middle and toppling him backward onto me. A rush of air expelled from both our lungs but Dean recovered first, he struggled loosely in my arms.

"Sam, c'mon! I need a piss, let me go!" I barely heard him and didn't release my grip. "I'm going to wet myself in a minute and that is not a good look. SAM!" His hands were suddenly on mine, callused fingers running over sensitive skin and prising my hands apart. His touches were strange caresses, attempting to soothe and reassure. "I'm coming back, Sammy. Promise."

At his words, I let my grip slip and Dean scrambled away from me. He flashed a smirk over his shoulder and dashed down the hall. The room was hauntingly quiet now, Dad had left sometime earlier, I could hear him moving downstairs, Bobby's voice mingling with his. The shower coughed into life down the hall, Dean sang to a song I didn't know loudly and I didn't hold back my smile.

_I think I'm starting to believe it. You're really back!_

I clambered off the bed, hunting for clean clothes amongst the dirty ones, forgotten by my panic for Dean. Eventually locating them, I tugged lose jeans and a purple shirt and darted downstairs. The smiles on the faces of the men in the library were beautifully foreign. The memory of the crinkles around Dad's eyes when he smiled had almost faded away. He sat resting comfortably in a worn chair, the fire dancing in the fireplace and smiled at me. Bobby was positioned at his desk, a small bottle of whisky sitting untouched on it and his face was bright, age hadn't seemed to touch it today.

"Morning, Sam. Where's Dean?" Dad greeted.

"Shower." I informed them and slipped down to the floor by Dad's feet.

"Again? Maybe I should start to charge him for shampoo?" Bobby rested his chin on his hands, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Won't he love that?" I mumbled but secretly laughed along with Dad.

"There's pancakes in the kitchen for you boys. Grab yours before Dean does." Dad ordered softly. I dashed into the kitchen.

Dean's footsteps bounded down the stairs, energetic and familiar. He greeted Dad and Bobby enthusiastically, laughing boisterously and approached the kitchen. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him when he appeared in the doorway, grinning and alive. But studying him I frowned, the black shirt he wore fell down to his knuckles and I didn't recognise it.

_Sam…honestly…He's been gone for over a month…of course he brought new clothes._

The bronze amulet on his neck sparkled in the light and suddenly I was swallowing my food to prevent my tears.

"Good morning, Dean! How did you sleep?" I nearly cringed at my eagerness to hear his voice but Dean only seemed amused.

"Fine until someone decided to use me as a pillow. By the way, you were hugging me! We didn't fall asleep like that, did we?" His voice was playful as he leant against the table. I nodded wildly, Dean raised a curious eyebrow. "Really? Wow, okay."

"I'm sorry I squashed you when I woke up." I offered a weak smile.

"Yeah, that was an interesting experience. Not everyday someone decides to try and squeeze the urine from my bladder. Is it a new way to say 'I love you'?"

"Deeeean!" I moaned and hid my dusted cheeks but Dean laughed openly, a sound I hadn't heard for months.

He tugged open the fridge, tugging out a bottle of water and barely breathed as he drained it in a few gulps. He tossed it carelessly into the bin, it rattled nosily to the bottom and Dean turned to walk back into the library.

"Aren't you eating?" I questioned, concerned.

Dean paused beside me, titling his head in childlike thought and suddenly snatched the fork I was holding out of my hand. He pushed the corner of pancake into his mouth with a smirk and dropped the empty fork back onto my plate.

"Dean!" I scolded. "Man, not nice."

"I ate. I'm going to talk to the old people. You coming?"

Because Dean had asked and I was terrified to let him out of my sight twice in an hour, I abandoned my food on the table and hurried after him. A smile tugged on the corner of Dean's mouth, one bloomed across my face and was mirrored on Dad. Dean perched on Bobby's desk, picking up a pen and flicking it through his fingers. I reclaimed my seat at Dad's feet, leaning back against his legs.

"Old people, Dean? Really?" Dad asked.

"Yeah. Old. Older than Sam. Way older than me. You know? Old."

Bobby huffed a laugh. "Okay, old. We got that."

Dean just smirked and swept his gaze around the room, tripping his eyes over objects that hadn't moved in his absence, tapes he'd left behind and jackets crumpled on chairs. He frowned at the knife resting on the desk beside him, the blade was dirty, the blood had never been fully washed away. Dean had touched it last and no one could touch it for fear of removing a part of him. Dean ran his fingertips over the blade and his frown intensified.

"Dean?" Bobby questioned. "You okay?"

My brother jerked suddenly and rolled his eyes. "Of course I am. Where's the Impala?"

"Outside."

Dean was suddenly on his feet and stalking toward the front door. Dad and Bobby exchanged a glance I didn't recognise but Dean's steps had become distant and I hurried after him. I caught the door before it slammed shut and nearly crashed into Dean's chest.

"Hmm. I got to ten, Sammy. You're getting slow." He commented and span on his heel.

"Ten? Ten what?" I called after him.

"Ten seconds until you were standing in front of me. You barely made it past six yesterday."

"I missed you." I defended.

A secret coloured Dean's face but he moved to fast for me to fully recognise it. I fell into step beside him and reached out my hand to snag his arm. He glanced down at my white knuckles and the fingers clinging tightly to him and for a terrible moment I thought he was going to shove me away but he didn't. He patted my hand gentle and kept walking toward Bobby's garage. His face shone in innocent glee when he spotted the Impala, I watched it light up his eyes. Wordlessly, I slipped my grasp of him and let him run to his car. He swept his palm over the body of the car, using his shirt sleeve to wipe a smear of dirt away.

"Hey, baby. Did you miss me? I missed you. I hope they took good care of you." He crooned to the silent car. "Did you Sam?"

I held my hands up in defence. "I didn't want to touch it in case I damaged it. Dad washed it a few days ago."

"She is not an 'it'. She is a 'she'." Dean protested and peered in through the window. "Where are the keys?"

I shrugged. "Dad's probably got them."

"Well that's not going to help me. Go and get them."

"What?"

"Get them! Go!" He batted his hands at me, pushing gently against my shoulders.

Wordlessly I did as he asked and wondered why I had seen a shadow fall across his face.

Dad looked up as I darted through the front door, my chest heaving. Alarm flickered across his face, he glanced to the empty space beside me before it jerked back to me. I waved my arms frantically, understanding his silent words.

"Dean's fine." I gasped. "He wants the Impala keys."

"Top draw." He motioned to a kitchen cupboard and I rummaged in it.

"Thanks!" But before I could convince myself to leave, I turned to Dad. "Dean's all right, isn't he?"

"…Sure he is, Sammy. Get back to him before he gets annoyed."

Dean's upper torso was buried under the Impala's hood when I returned to his side. There was a set of tools propped up beside him; he played with the car's engine. I put the keys onto the workbench beside the door. Curiously, I noted that Dean's shirt sleeves were still hanging over his hands, drenched in oil and he worked in silence.

"Don't you want any music?" I queried

"Hmm? Oh, pick something."

I turned to fiddle with the ancient radio beside me, spinning the dial and wincing at the static. Rock music, loud and vibrating blasted out of the worn speakers and I settled back against the wall.

"Change the station, Sam."

I had to wait a heartbeat before I could respond. "What? Why?"

"It gives me a headache."

Silently, I did as my brother had ordered and tried to meet his eyes and when I did, he grinned at me. I echoed the smile, hungrily etching the expression to memory, afraid to let him fade to memory again. For too long, I had been frightened, knowing Dean would disappear to only a name. I thought I'd forget his voice, his laugh and as time went by and I grew old, his face would melt away from me. I had clung so tightly to material clothes that weren't him but they were all I had left. My prayers had been answered and now I didn't know what to do. Dean breathed and pulsed with life, he stared out of his emerald eyes. Tears built up inside me, stinging my eyes acidly and I screwed up my face, determined not to cry. Dean started singing along to the radio, a song he'd learnt when I hadn't been with him.

"I love you." I whispered into the air.

I didn't expect Dean to hear me but he did. He glanced around the Impala hood, the amusement quickly growing to concern. He slithered down from the car and crept toward me and suddenly my tears were flowing relentlessly. I lowered my head, staring down at my dirty shoes but his fingers hooked underneath my chin and swung my face back up.

"What's wrong, Sammy?" He questioned

_You. You're what's wrong. I've spent hours and hours screaming at god for taking you away from me but you're here._

…_We hurt you so bad but you're here….You came back…You didn't have too…you could have run..._

_I love you._

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Because I hurt you enough to make you leave. I was so wrong." Dean wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me forward until my forehead pressed against his neck. Smoothly, somehow, still holding onto me, he lowered himself to the ground and cradled me. "I'm sorry."

"It's in the past, Sam. I shouldn't have runaway."

"It was my punishment."

"Punishment? Sammy, God didn't make me runaway or trap me there."

"He knew the only way to break me was to hurt you. I've made such a mess of us. We're still brothers, right?"

"We'll always be brothers. Us against the fucked up world."

I laughed against him and reached my arms out to encircle him. "I really thought you were dead."

Shame coloured his voice when he answered me. "I know you did. I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you come straight home?"

"I needed to be sure of something."

I looked up at him, capturing his eyes before he could focus on something else. "What?"

"Does it matter? I'm home now."

"No. I suppose not. I love you."

"You keep saying that and I haven't forgotten."

_But you had. For a while. And then…you were dead…_

I just held him tighter and thanked a God I owed my brother too.

Footsteps on the gravel outside the creaking garage alerted me to Dad's presence. I looked up from Dean's chest but held onto him when he tried to push me away. A dusting of crimson had tickled his cheeks and he looked stubbornly away from Dad. But Dad didn't seem to mind my show of weakness or the way I sat protected on Dean's lap.

"Yes, Dad. This is a chick-flick moment. Sammy has snapped." Dean commented lightly. "You can stop staring now."

Dad rumbled a laugh and lowered himself onto the dusty floor beside us. His large hand rested on Dean's shoulder, I saw it tighten into a reassuring squeeze. Dean's face was surprised and guarded, he glanced at Dad's hand timidly. My heart chocked, Dad's attitude toward us, toward him had changed. I saw my dad in the hunter now and couldn't doubt his love.

I had seen him leave the hunter behind.

Dean hadn't. I wasn't sure he understood.

Slowly, Dean moved out from underneath Dad's hand, suspicion a curse on his face. I knew Dad was hurt, it flashed across his face but he hide it well.

"How are you boys doing?" Dad questioned.

"Perfect Dad!" I chirped.

"Fine, sir." Dean reported and I flinched.

"Good. Good. You been working on the Impala?"

I nodded vigorously, Dean seemed more guarded and I wanted to shake him.

"Yeah, she just needed some oil and the filters cleaned."

Dad beamed and Dean fidgeted underneath his stare. Dean tensed when Dad replaced his hand on his shoulder and held on.

"You did good, son."

I nearly cheered when Dean relaxed at Dad's praise and some of his suspicion faded away. Dad reached behind him, pulling a plastic bag toward him. I grinned, recognising the simple bag in a heartbeat.

"I've got something for you, Dean." Dad smiled and pushed the bag into Dean's hands.

I refused to move of my brother's lap, turning to lean against his chest when he pushed against my back. Dean sighed in playful aggravation and swatted the back of my head slightly. He stretched his arms around me, placing the bag on my lap so he could fumble with the plastic. The bag fell away with a crinkled sigh and smooth, familiar leather fell out onto our hands.

"My jacket. You found it." Dean breathed, caressing the fabric. I heard him gasp and felt his chest spasm. "Oh, God. Thank you."

I started to move away from him, understanding that this was my brother's private moment but he held me against him briefly. I almost let my tears fall when his lips touched the nape of my neck tenderly. I scrambled away from him, he slipped his arms into the leather jacket, his head bowed. When he looked back up, I instantly moved toward him, disregarding his no touching policy or Dad watching silently in the corner.

"Don't cry, Dean." I begged.

He reached up and scrubbed at his cheeks angrily, snarling quietly. "Sorry. Don't know what happened then." But his voice kept catching.

"Dean. It's all right, really."

_Dad's giving you permission. Cry for once, brother. You'll feel better._

But Dean shook his head and turned back to the Impala.


	26. Rust beneath the gold

Song: How do you get that lonely?- Blaine Larson.

A Soldier's Last Stand.

Rust beneath the gold.

John.

Dean bustled around the kitchen, humming softly underneath his breath as he replaced china bowls back into the cupboard. I watched him move, gliding gracefully across the floor. Sam curled into the kitchen chair beside me, thick book resting on the table. Dean grumbled when his shirt sleeves tumbled over his knuckles but he didn't roll them up, I frowned slightly.

"Dean, why don't you put on a T-shirt?" I inquired.

He shrugged, closing a draw with his hip. "I'm cold."

I accepted his words without complaint but suspicion grew in me and a glance at Sam proved he felt the same. But Dean didn't seem to notice as he turned back to the cutlery in his hands. Bobby wandered into the kitchen and glared at Dean even though he knew it wouldn't be seen.

"What are you doing, Dean?" He questioned, leaning against the wall.

"Cleaning. Got a problem with that?" Dean snapped.

"Dean! Don't talk to Bobby like that!" I scolded.

Dean recoiled like he'd been struck, his eyes suddenly wide and alert. Something was haunting him, I saw it in the tight lines of his face and the ice that still had to thaw in his eyes. Shame flicked onto Dean's face and he glanced at the floor, hands clutching the knives tightly.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry Bobby." He mumbled "I didn't mean it."

Bobby strode toward Dean, his steps faltering slightly when Dean tensed up further. "It's all right, son. I'm not cross with you." Bobby soothed.

"No one is." I agreed and pressed my hands to Dean's hair.

My son finally raised wary eyes to mine and offered a small smile. Sam darted across the kitchen and threw his arms around Dean's torso. I chuckled when Dean staggered comically underneath the weight and groaned.

"Uh, Sam?" Dean questioned.

"I love you!" Sam declared.

Dean's face softened slightly. "Thanks kid but you can stop saying that. Really."

Sam just shook his head and pushed his face into Dean's shoulder.

_No, Dean…Sam won't ever stop telling you that…he's making up for the years you thought he didn't…he's making up for the agony you feel…And he's telling you I love you, because I can't tell you just yet…but I'm learning too…_

"Dad?" Dean questioned hesitantly as night bled into the day.

I turned to him as he hovered in the doorway, biting his lip in an absentminded moment of insecurity. Throwing the newspaper down at my feet, I gave my attention to my son.

"Yeah?"

Aware that he had my attention, Dean crossed the floor and carefully lowered himself onto the carpet before me. Pain and grief had changed my boy, there was a shadow within him that shouldn't be there. There was an ancient sorrow to him I couldn't touch, a crumbling ledge in his mind that I couldn't support and I wept inside knowing what I had done. He stared up at me in curiosity and hope, playing with the string of his amulet.

"Bobby says you spoke to Tessa and Nick." He waited until I nodded to continue. "How are they?"

"Devastated." Dean winced but didn't look away from me. "They still think you're dead."

"Is…is it better they think that?"

I sighed and dragged my fingertips over my nose and down my cheeks. "In a way, yes. This way, the monsters stay away from them and they're safe."

"But they're my friends. I miss them."

A miserable smile found my lips and Dean started to lower his eyes. "That's your answer then."

But to my surprise, he shook his head. "No, they'll forget about me one day. It's better this way. I'm sorry to bother you , sir."

He was gone before I could object or comfort him.

_My brave, beautiful little boy…you're unforgettable…worth the world a thousand times over…why can't you see that?_

…_Right…my answer is staring at me through a mirror…._

_I am so sorry…_

With a heavy heart, I followed his footsteps on the stairs.

The prowling of socked feet ripped me from my sleep, someone moved stealthily downstairs. Frowning, I threw of my blankets and reached for the gun concealed underneath my pillow. My steps were silent on the stairs and floorboards, my vision used to dim surroundings and I knew Bobby's home. There was a glow from Bobby's study, I recognised it as the light of a fire. Confusion trickled through me and I cautiously pushed open the damaged door. Standing in a pool of orange light, Dean stared into the flames. Dressed in a thin shirt and baggy jogging bottoms, he shivered in the night. Concerned, I slipped my gun into the waist band of my jeans and moved to stand beside him.

"Dean? What are you doing?"

He didn't turn his head to me, just shrugged. "Remembering."

"Remembering what?"

"The fire."

I felt fear and revolution roll in my stomach. I didn't want to talk about the nightmare that had almost killed Dean. The firelight had thrown shadows and light onto his face, emerald eyes suddenly sparking gold. He felt so distant, I wondered if I was going to lose him again.

"What about the fire?"

"It hurt. I was so scared and you weren't there. Why weren't you?"

I couldn't tell him how illogical his question seemed to me but I answered it anyway. "I was here, son. On the other end of that phone and then I was in the car."

"I remember calling you. I wanted you to come and save me. Why didn't you?"

Guilty. I felt so guilty. "Son, I was too far away. But I drove all night and never stopped."

"There's something I can't remember. I don't know whose body it was you found. There wasn't one when I left." He ran his fingertips through his hair and growled in aggravation. "I don't know what I'm missing."

I rested my hand on Dean's shoulder, pretending I didn't notice when he tensed up and didn't relax.

"Perhaps you shouldn't try so hard to remember."

"NO! It's important! I HAVE to remember." Dean snapped and then suddenly looked surprised at his outburst. "Sorry, dad."

"Don't apologise, son." I admonished gently.

"I just wish I knew."

"Dean I…"

A sob suddenly caught in Dean's throat, he stared into the fire with fear. "I was so scared, dad. So fucking scared and all I could think was 'Sammy's gonna find a burnt corpse and Dad's gonna hate me forever.'"

I threw my arms around my boy's lithe figure and didn't let go when he struggled briefly. I felt his chest start to heave and shudder, heard his breathe catch in his throat. He wept into my arms, his face hidden in my chest, fingers clutching at my shirt.

"Ssh, you're safe now, Dean. You're back home with us, where you belong. I could never, ever hate you. You're safe."

"No…I'm not…"

_Yes you are, because I'd move heaven and hell to keep you safe. _

…_Nothing will ever take you away from me…Not even the memories you fear…_

I held him tighter and pushed my face into his hair.

There was undiluted fear on Sam's face when he crept downstairs in the morning. His face was pale, teeth worrying his lower lip and he was clutching a forgotten sweater than belong to his brother.

"Something's wrong with Dean." Sam blurted before I could ask.

Instantly alarmed my gaze darted toward the stairs. "What?"

"I don't know. I went past the bathroom and he was mumbling. Something about fire and lies."

"Sam, Dean's been through a lot, he needs to deal with it."

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Sam roared.

Surprised, I surged to my feet and stared at my young son. "Sam?"

"DON'T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT USING THAT LINE! HE NEEDS YOU…NEEDS US! I LOVE HIM AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO TELL HIM. WHY CAN'T YOU TELL HIM? CUT YOURSELF OF FROM HIM AND HE'LL RUNAWAY AGAIN! I WON'T LET YOU!"

Silence followed in the wake of Sam's words, the entire world seemed stunned to surprise with me. Sam's eyes were wild, chest heaving in the strain of his emotions. He was so afraid and I didn't know why.

"I'm not doing anything like that. Dean isn't going to run away." I soothed

"You said that last time but he did. This is your second chance, why throw it away because of stubborn pride?"

Stung, I glanced away from Sam, acknowledging the bite from him words and the guilt that followed. I didn't need Sam to tell me I'd been given a gift, a chance to correct the mistakes I made but I didn't know how to. Dean was still so guarded and tightly coiled, ice that refused to thaw out bathed his soul.

"I'm learning, Sam. Give me time."

"Dean was missing for three weeks. He was 'dead' for one. How much more time do you need? He's not getting any younger, either are you. And I'm really afraid that we're going to lose him and something is defiantly wrong with him."

"He is trying to remember something that happened to him whilst he was in the fire, Sam."

"He burned. That's what happened."

"Sammy? Dad? Is everything OK?" A smooth voice spoke from the doorway.

I threw my gaze to Dean, saw the perfect arch of his eyebrows and the arms folded casually across his chest and wondered if Dean was closer to the edge that I thought he could be.

"Yes. How are you feeling?" I inquired.

"Fine. Why wouldn't I be?" He countered and wandered out toward the scrapyard.

"Aren't you going to eat anything, Dean?" Sam called.

"Later!" Came the distant reply of his brother.

Bobby marched into the den, moments after Dean had left and glared at Dean's silhouette through the grimy glass. There was concern in his eyes that frightened me and I felt Sam still beside me.

"Johnny, there's something very wrong with your boy."

"What?"

"I don't remember the last time he ate a decent meal." Bobby whispered and my world fell from under me again.

"You…you…think he's got an…eating disorder…? Dean…my big brother…? No, you're wrong!" Sam cried.

"I don't think it's that simple. We've got to get him talking. I think he knows more than he lets on."

"What makes you say that?" I questioned, still reeling slightly.

Bobby sighed. "Some of it is not my place to say. But when I found him, there was something in his eyes that frightened me. He might not look it but he is broken. He hasn't healed yet, don't forget that. He's fragile."

"Dean isn't fragile." Sam argued but his voice wavered.

"He is. Sam, he's only human and he's still hurt."

"But why are you worried about him eating?"

Bobby groaned and ran his hand over the back of his neck. Tears had filled Sam's eyes, threatening to spill over and something was stuck in my throat.

"You remember when you first came to me, Johnny? You had a baby in your arms and a silent little boy clutching onto your leg. He didn't eat for days and refused to speak for almost a full year. He was frightened and trying to cope on his own because his daddy was hurting too. But Dean's older now, he knows he can't stop talking because both you and Sam need his reassurance. Perhaps, he's trying to cope again on his own."

"Maybe he just can't eat?" Sam suggested.

"Bobby's right about one thing though. We really need to talk to him." I agreed with a sigh.

Sam and Bobby trod in my footsteps as I prowled across the yard and toward the glossy Impala. Dean stretched out on the bonnet of the car, staring up directly into the sun and didn't notice us approaching. I frowned in concern and increased the speed in which I walked

"… Did his mom and daddy forget to say, I love you son? Did no one see the writing on the wall? I'm not blaming anybody; we all do the best we can. I know hindsight's 20/20 but I still don't understand…How do you get that lonely, how do you hurt that bad?...How do you get that lonely and nobody knows?" Dean sang softly with the song on the radio, unaware that we hovered beside him.

Sam moved forward, his feet barely disturbing the sand they moved on and he reached out a hand to touch Dean's arm. Dean's voice cut of in an instant, he jerked upright when he saw us crowded around him.

_How do you get that lonely?_

_How do you hurt that bad?_

_To make you make the call,_

_That having no life at all is better that the life that you had?_

_How do you feel so empty…you wanna let it all go?_

_How do you get that lonely…and nobody knows?_

_It was just another story, printed on the second page…._

_Underneath the Tiger's football score._

The song that continued to play in the background, bit away at me and turned half healed wounds raw and septic. Dean sat perfectly still on the car, stunned into silence with Sam's hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Uh…guys? Something wrong?" He questioned finally.

"I love you, Dean." Sam whispered.

Dean frowned and ran his hand through Sam's fringe. "I know, Sammy. Is something wrong?"

"Why won't you talk to me?" Sam inquired.

Dean glanced stubbornly away, his eyes falling on the dirt ground. "What are you on about, Sam? I talk all the time, I'm talking now."

"No! You're not saying anything important."

"Ouch. Honest enough Sam? Usually you're begging me to shut up."

"Damn it, Dean! Talk to me! I'm your brother and I know something's wrong with you!"

"There's nothing wrong with me." Dean defended violently. "Leave me alone." He pulled himself to his feet and stalked away.

"Show them the burns, Dean. Isn't it about time they knew?" Bobby ordered softly.

Dean span around, his face pale and eyes wide. His fists were clenched by his sides and his jaw locked.

"Fuck you, Bobby." Dean's voice was soft and full of rage.

"You're burnt, Dean? Show me?" I demanded.

Dean scowled but lowered his fingertips to the hem of his shirt and tugged the material over his head. Sam cried out beside me, his hands flying to his eyes.

I forgot how to breathe.

I forgot how to think.

I knew a part of me had withered and started to die.

…All I saw was my son's ruined torso…

"…Daddy? Don't be angry with me…please…I didn't mean to hide it…Daddy?"

…..


	27. Open window

Quick message. Couple of swears used in this chapter. Second, I have no sound knowledge of eating disorders and want to stress that Dean doesn't have one. No one has mentioned it but this is for my own piece of mind.

Thank you.

…..

A Soldier's Last Stand.

Open window.

Dean.

Disfigured…Deformed…Repulsive…Is this what I am too you now?

I bowed my head away from Dad and Sam, hearing their breathing falter and catch in their chests. Consciously, I hide my chest with my shirt, knuckles shocking white in tension. I couldn't look up at my family, didn't want to acknowledge the horror hidden in their eyes. I didn't want to see the faded guilt on their faces. I stood in a terrified silence before them, my heart tripping a beat that increased in tempo as the seconds passed. Bobby shuffled his weight, rocking onto the balls of his feet before taking a measured step toward me. But seeing him approach awoke an instinct to run and start fortifying my shattered boundaries.

"Yeeeeaaaah. You know, I'm kinda thirsty right now and not that I don't appreciate the attention sometimes, right now…it making me really uncomfortable." I drawled and danced around them.

I struggled with my shirt, in my haste attempting to pull the fabric over my head whilst walking and stumbled. But strong arms steadied me and guided the material onto my body. I recognised gun powder and leather weeping into the breeze and felt my muscle tense further. Dad's hand was an unexpected weight on the back on my neck, squeezing the skin reassuringly. Cautiously, I turned to him and regarded him through distrusting eyes. Lines had deepened on Dad's face, furrowing his forehead and crinkling around his eyes. I could see concern and fear in him and something in my relaxed.

"You've been hurt this whole time?" He questioned gently.

I nodded wordlessly.

"Why didn't you say anything, man?" Sam inquired, he still stared at me with a little brother's fear.

I shrugged. "Because I'm healing. Better in no time."

Sam frowned, his upper lip curling suddenly. "That's not how this works anymore. You hurt. You tell. Got it?"

I rolled my eyes but offered him a sloppy salute. The tension around me kept adrenaline fizzing through my system and scattered my thoughts around my head. I rocked on my feet, throwing my weight between my legs and clenching my fists. A small part of me didn't want to believe that family could make me so nervous but their silence only poked the thoughts in deeper.

"Did you get anything for them?" Dad inquired suddenly.

"Yes sir! Swiped some antibiotics whilst I was in town. Finished the course yesterday. Just waiting for the scabs to form." I reported

Sam frowned and folded his arms across his chest. "Shouldn't they have already started to scab?"

I fidgeted "…Technically. But they keep getting…bumped?"

"By what?"

"Walls?"

Dad stared at me with an intensity I couldn't break, tightening the nerves twisting in my gut. Finally, he blinked and I grasped the dismissal he probably didn't mean to give and continued toward the house.

Something rooted deep inside me gave a whimper of distress. I was running out of time…

"Dean have you remembered anything else about the fire?" Dad blurted out.

Surprised, I faltered slightly and looked away from the television screen and busty women.

"Like what?"

Dad shrugged. "Like who the body is? Why you couldn't get out of the room?"

A betrayer's guilt purred inside me. "I don't know who the body belongs too, I didn't notice it. Kinda busy with the fire and burning. I assumed something had fallen in front of the door and the windows were old."

Brown eyes narrowed calculatingly. "They were brand new a year ago."

"…Oh…really? Have fun finding that out?"

"Funny. Nick told me. Anything else you feel like mentioning?"

"Uh…not that I know off...Sir!"

Dad studied me for a handful of heartbeats longer and turned back to his newspaper. My gaze drifted toward the open window and the curtains that fluttered in the breeze. My family's lie was thick in their eyes; I knew what they had found. The foul smelling powder that nightmares left behind.

"I know what you found." I announced. "Sulphur. You think Yellow Eyes came after me."

"Did he?"

I latched my gaze onto my father's. "Would I be alive if he had?" That familiar detachment was leaking into my voice, it was heartbreakingly sad to hear. For the last month, I had been a different man.

The silence that came from the table was the answer I needed.

"I'm sorry I made you show them, boy. I just didn't know how to get through to all off you. You weren't talking." Bobby defended himself as he stood next to me on the porch.

I sighed and lifted a navy blue mug to my lips, breathing the bitter coffee aroma rising from the liquid.

"I know. I didn't like that you caught me off guard. I wanted to do it my way."

Bobby ran his hand gently over my shoulder, dusting over wounds and burns. "You wouldn't have told them. I know you, Dean. You were going to keep on hiding it and come up with another way when the shirts didn't work."

"I didn't want them to know. Besides, I would have been out of the shirts before they realised anything was wrong." A hand connected sharply with the back of my head, I yelped in indignation and raised my hand to rub at the ache. "What was that for?"

"You should give you daddy and Sam more credit than this. Of course they've noticed, Idgit. They're practically making themselves sick they're so worried."

I glared at the man who had always been a different kind of father too me, lowering my hand and processed his words.

"They're that upset?"

"Yeah. You haven't fully talked about what happened while you were gone and I won't push you…but THEY suffered as well, Dean. You did what you set out to do. YOU hurt THEM."

"Don't tell me that. I…It wasn't about hurting them. Not in the end anyway. I love the bastards."

"So what then?"

"I…fuck! I don't have to explain myself too you! You know why I did what I did. I don't regret leaving."

"You sure about that?"

"I just regret what happened after that."

"Meaning."

"None of your business." I snapped and started to push myself to my feet. Bobby's hand was a heavy pressure on my shoulder that ignited the familiar white hot agony down my arm. "Let go!"

"Dean Michael Winchester, sit the hell down!" Shocked by Bobby's outrage, I sank back down to the wooden panelling and stared at him. "This has to stop! All those thoughts and ideas you've got rushing around in your head have to die. They'll destroy you! We're you're family…we love you kid. You ran away from us when all you had to do was talk. Don't push us away now. Tell us what's wrong."

I dropped the coffee mug to the deck, hearing it clatter and roll away but not watching where it landed. I stared out over the scrapyard, distantly noticing the grey sky reflected in the windshields. Bobby eased himself down beside me, stretching his legs out in front of him and peering shamelessly into my face.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Bobby."

"Talk to us. Tell Sam you're having nightmares every night. Tell John you're frightened. Don't deny it, boy. I can see it on your face right now. What's wrong?"

"Would you sacrifice a million people to save one person, Bobby?" I questioned suddenly, I felt Bobby's shock and sensed him lean forward to see me better.

"No."

"What about one to save a million?"

"…That depends…"

"On what?"

"The person and the situation."

"Oh. Would you sacrifice a murder to save an innocent victim?"

"Always."

"Even if the murder was sorry?"

"Even then. Dean…is there something you want to tell me?"

I shook my head. "No, Sir." I pushed myself to my feet and Bobby let me. He watched me as I backed away a few steps and looked shyly down into his face. "I love you, you know?"

There was an expression on his face that was a mixture of confusion and concern. "Growing a pair of breasts there, Dean?" He teased after a heartbeat.

I laughed. "I'll leave that to Samantha." I promised and turned toward the house.

"…yeah kid. I love you too." Bobby's words floated on the breeze.

Sam was tucked in bed when I crept into the bedroom, the blankets pulled tight under his chin and a socked foot escaping from one side. The window was locked shut and the curtains drawn, I swallowed uneasily.

"Sam?" I shook my brother's shoulder and he blinked sleepily awake. "Can I open the window?"

"No. It's freezing out there. Go to bed." He snapped and rolled over.

Biting my lip I padded over to my bed and stripped away the bed sheets, throwing them into a heap on the floor. The room was small, no exits when the doors and windows were closed. There was no escape if something went wrong. I stalked to the door and gently eased it back open and balked at the dark hallway outside. Endless. No one to help if something happened. Panic begun to coat my tongue and tap out a dance with my heartbeat. Sweat was dampening my hair and starting to form into beads along my scalp. But then Sam snored and my hunter's mind mocked a child's fear. I could listen to the hunter in me that had kept me alive and sane. The lost little boy that clung to my leg could be locked away and ignored.

"You're twenty years old, Dean. Grow up." I whispered

I prowled toward the bed and slipped down onto the crisp sheets only to sit up seconds later and drag the blankets back over my body.

I screamed awake, fighting before I was fully grasping reality. I didn't know the monsters that had woke me, only that they had caught me and I wasn't safe. Something was tangled around my waist, trapping my legs together and panic seized my mind. I growled, writhing against the fabric vice and gasping in an airless room. Something grabbed my arm and I lashed out without thought but didn't hit anything. I snarled in aggression, pretending it wasn't in fear.

"No!" A voice shouted. "Don't grab him!"

"Shit! Wake up, son. You're safe."

"Dean!"

I heard the words but didn't understand them, frightened by my constricted limbs and suffocating heat. Pain fizzled through me, radiating from my shoulders and my back, stretching down to my toes.

"Get the blankets off him. He's panicking, Dad! Get them off!"

Suddenly, a faint weight had been ripped from my legs and I threw myself away from the voices. I scrabbled in the slivers off light underneath the window but couldn't ease the vice on my chest of the fear I couldn't control. The window remained locked shut and my trembling fingertips would work to open it. The presence beside me coaxed a snarl from my throat and I pressed myself against the cold wall.

"Dean? It's Sam. I won't hurt you."

I latched onto the name and the voice, caught somewhere between my dream and their world. His words were enough to calm me and release some tension in my body.

"What do you need?"

"…Air…"

"Air? You mean the window? Okay, I'm opening the window."

He leant over me and seconds later the latch clicked. I dragged myself to my feet and pressed my cheek against the frozen glass, gasping in greedy mouthfuls of frigid air. There was a hand on the small of my back, circling gently over undamaged skin and someone talking to me.

"You with me, bro?" Sam questioned.

"I'm tired." I answered sluggishly, aware he hadn't asked that.

A fond smile tugged on his lips. "I'll bet. You wanna stay here a bit longer?"

"Sleep here?"

"Not here, Dean. But we'll keep the window open and the blankets away. Okay?"

I raised my fist and rubbed my eyes in sleepy confusion. "Blankets?"

"Mm, they got tangled around you during the night."

"Couldn't breathe…Sammy, don't close the window."

"I won't, I promise. Bed now?"

I nodded and shuffled back toward the bed, Sam ghosting in my footsteps. I barely acknowledged the other people crowded around my bed and I fell back down on it. Sam reached down and tossed the blankets into the far corner and crouched down beside me. I shivered faintly and gazed at Sam over my arms.

"Cold, Sammy."

"I've got an idea. One second." Someone beside my head answered and footsteps pounded away.

Moments later something small and soft was tucked around my shoulders and I blinked at it. It smelt faintly of gunpowder and a scent my conscious mind recognised but my feral dream one didn't.

"I hope that helps." The voice added softly. Hands walked through my hair, massaging my scalp. "Okay, Dean. Window's locked and your blankets aren't anywhere near you. Think you can sleep now?"

I nodded slowly and had fallen asleep before I had realised what had happened.

Slowly, I dragged myself awake, dismissing the last clinging tendrils off sleep and stretching my body. My fingers encountered soft flannel and I frowned. I recognised my father's brown summer shirt that I had clutched too in my sleep. Shame and embarrassment flashed through me at the hazy memory of my broken night and the fear I had displayed.

"Well done, Dean." I mocked

I toyed with hiding in the bedroom for longer, pretending I was asleep but Sam's concern had been tangible yesterday and I couldn't upset him more. I left dad's shirt folded on my pillow and crept downstairs. I didn't expect the warm welcome I got when I reached the kitchen. Dad's eyes were smiling, mirroring his lips and he beckoned me to the chair in front of him. Silently, I slipped down into it and looked at Sam. There were light bruises around his eyes, whispering of concerns deep into the night. Still, he grinned at me and rolled his eyes when Bobby started cursing loudly in the study. Dad lowered a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me and immediately I pushed it away, stomach churning. Patiently, Dad pulled it back to me and resting his hand on the top of my head.

"Just eat a bit, Dean. Half the plate." He coaxed.

"I can't."

"You can. You don't have an eating disorder, you're just adjusting. But you're damaging your body. Please just try."

I lifted a piece of toast and forced it into my mouth, it was dry and scratched my tongue but my stomach settled down. I continued with measured, slow bites, feeling the horror of my last weeks drain away as I returned food to my body. Dad smiled when I pushed it away from me, satisfied with the amount I'd eaten. Then he sank into the chair beside me and dread whined inside me.

"Son, we need to talk about last night."

"I'm sorry about that. I know I woke everyone up. Won't happen again."

Dad blinked. "I didn't mean apologise for having a nightmare. I meant what happened afterwards. Why didn't you tell us you had to have the window opened?"

"Who says I do?"

"Sam and Bobby. And after last night so do I."

"I panicked, that's all. Doesn't happen often."

"You nearly hit Sam."

I threw a horrified look at my baby brother.

"You missed. I'm all right. Really. Just worried about you."

"Don't be. I'm fine."

"You're lying."

_Course I am…_

…_There's no way to get out of a room when fire's blazing and the damn window won't open…_

ONE.


	28. I'm sorry, my friend

I am so unbelievably sorry about the lack of chapters. I had practically finished them all and my computer decided to crash. The hard drive was so badly damaged that nothing could be salvaged. But if there's anyone still reading out there, enjoy! Sorry about the abrupt ending.

Much love!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

I'm sorry, my friend.

Dean Winchester.

The entire house was bathed in moonlight and it fell across the kitchen table where I sat quietly in the dark, rotating my phone around on the spot. There was no one awake; I could hear Dad's snoring above me. I stared at the machine before me with trepidation and wondered briefly why I was waiting for it to bite me. I picked up the slim body and twirled it around in my fingertips before dropping it softly back. After sitting in the same spot for an hour I had come to the conclusion that I was a complete coward. I wasn't Sammy's hero or Dad's perfect son. I was a humongous coward and I knew it. My fear was silly but completely justified.

I wanted to call Nick.

He thought I was dead and for a while I was happy to let him think that. But I missed him and for once wanted to allow myself to be selfish. He would be angry with me, everyone was and he probably wouldn't want to talk to me but I needed him to know. Tessa too.

But instead I just glared at my phone and prodded it firmly. My entire life recently had seemed to focus around telephone calls and it was bordering on ridiculous. I pushed away from the table and stalked around the kitchen. It was mocking me and my loud nerves. I growled softly and scooped it up again but pushed it away almost instantly. Harshly I beat my palms against my head and frowned. I had only realised recently that it was sometimes next to impossible to pick up a phone and call someone. Why was it so hard? Nick was hours away and didn't know where I was. He couldn't possibly hurt me over the phone.

"For crying out loud, call him Winchester."

I nodded once to myself and dialled the number before I could talk myself out of it. I had to wait longer than I expected to for him to answer.

"Hello?" Nick's sleepy voice answered.

I glanced at the clock and nearly groaned. 3:40A.M. Shit.

"I...uh...wrong number, mate. Sorry."

Wimp.

"Oh okay. Night then."

Coward.

Pathetic.

"WAIT NICK!" I shouted and then stilled, straining my ears and terrified that I had woken someone else up.

"Do I know you?" Nick's voice was more alert but still sleepy and I knew I could so easily back out of this.

"Yeah...I'm Dean. Remember?"

There was only silence and I frowned, thinking he'd fallen asleep and missed my declaration.

"He's dead." Nick hissed.

I was suddenly so tired of everyone trying to tell me I was supposed to have stopped breathing last week.

"I'm not."

"I saw his body you bloody bastard! Who are you?"

I flinched, Nick wasn't supposed to have seen me...him... Things hadn't turned out right and I was paying the price. Nick's anger wasn't as impressive as I had originally feared. I sighed and lowered myself to the floor, leaning against the work surfaces.

"I'm Dean. Honest. I save your sorry butt from Zack and his goons. I was there when you nearly hot hit by that car. I know about your brother Kevin and how much you miss him. Hell, I even know Tessa! Pretty Tessa. Please believe me, Nicky!"

A sob sounded down the line and my stomach fluttered and guilt twisted it my gut. I truly didn't realise how much damage I would cause to everyone. I hid my face in my trembling hands and heard Nick try to gather his breaths.

"You're dead. I couldn't get to you in time."

"I got out. It wasn't me."

"You've been alive all this time and you didn't tell me? Didn't come back?"

"I couldn't. I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as you're gonna be when I get my hands on you, Hot Shot."

My answering laugh was watery and weak at best; I scrubbed my hands over my eyes and pretended I was weeping again. A part of me remembered that I was supposed to be stronger, I was expected to be stronger but I was so tired. When I had this mess sorted out I would stop.

"Yeah?" I questioned around the mucus in my mouth and the tears on my face.

"Yeah. Where are you? Tell me, please." I rattled of my address to him and really hoped that Bobby wouldn't mind too much. "Got it. Oh... and Hot Shot?"

"Yeah, Nicky?"

"Don't you ever lie to me again. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. I'll be there tomorrow Dean. Without Tessa, she's busy tomorrow. We can all meet up some other time."

"Okay. Bye Nicky."

"Bye Dean."

There was a tremendous weight lifted from my shoulders when I hung up the phone and it slipped from my fingers. Nick was coming here. He had believed me. Maybe not forgiven me yet but I could work on it and make him trust me again. Overwhelmed by the thoughts and emotions buffering against my mind I sobbed loudly into my hands. I didn't even mind when Dad closed his arms silently around my shoulders and dragged me to bed.

Despite the short amount of hours I had slept, I was awake before Sam next morning. He wheezed in sleep beside me whilst I dragged all my clothes onto my bed and casted critical eyes over them. I knew I was being a little to obsessive and Nick wouldn't really mind what I was wearing but I wanted to make an effort. I had just discarded a torn blue button up shirt onto the floor when Sam awoke with a groan.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty." I quipped.

He uttered an intelligent sounding 'uh?' and plopped back down onto the pillow and tugged his blanket over his head. I laughed and held a black shirt with Metallica printed on the front up to the light and placed it on the possible pile. I threw one of Sam's purple shirts over my shoulder without a backward look.

"Hang on!" Sam threw his bed covers of and jerked upright. I met his confused eyes with amusement even as he continued to gape at me.

"Close your mouth, Sammy. You'll catch files."

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for clothes."

I selected a pair of black jeans that I had forgotten I owned and folded them carefully over the back of a nearby chair.

"Why?"

I shrugged slightly and threw yet another shirt onto the floor.

"You got a date?"

"No." I answered.

"Then what?"

I fidgeted softly and glanced back into Sam's earnest face. "I called Nick last night. He's coming here."

"Nick? As in Nick Morgan owner of The Diner?"

"That's the one."

"Here? Bobby let you?"

"Well...he doesn't know exactly but I can persuade him."

Sam slipped of the bed and wrapped his skinny arms around my torso, ever mindful of the still healing wounds on my back. I froze slightly in surprise but was happily relieved when I realised I knew what to do and hugged him back.

"Knew you could do it, bro." Sam congratulated. "Wear this one."

He plucked a lose fitting grey shirt from the pile and shoved it at my chest. I looked down at it and tried to work out why it was so much better than my Metallica shirt.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

It shouldn't have been enough to convince me but oddly it was. I shrugged in acceptance and strutted toward the bathroom.

It was only an hour later when I was waiting impatiently on the front porch did I start to panic slightly. Maybe it was too soon and I was asking too much. Nick might have been to hurt by my actions and refuse to even contemplate a friendship again. I bit my lip and peered out over Bobby's scrap yard nervously. Bobby had granted me permission to talk to Nick here and not force test after test on him. Nick only had to walk through the Devil's Trap. I pulled on the sleeves of my shirt and paced the length of the porch. Sam sat on the steps deep in a book but every so often his gaze would switch to me and glance away. I was being mature and pretending not to notice and sticking my tongue out at him when I did. Sam acted his sixteen years and returned the gesture. We smirked like school children and stifled giggles when Dad stared out through the window. Eventually, I threw myself down beside my brother and drew on the wooden porch with a stone I had found. I accepted the weight of Sam's shoulder against my own silently and didn't push him away. Not yet anyway.

"When did he say he was going to be here?" Sam questioned.

"He didn't exactly say. Just that he would be here today and I got the idea that I would be very sorry if I wasn't."

Sam laughed and flipped a page on his book. "Probably. I'd just direct him to the nearest pub."

I poked his side harshly. "You shouldn't know where the nearest pub is."

"That hurt jerk!"

"Bitch!"

A black truck suddenly swung into the scrap yard and stopped in an eruption of dust. Sam and I instantly stilled and stared at the driver's side expectantly. The door opened swiftly and I jumped to my feet, purposely placing myself in front of Sam just in case. I heard Sam sigh and new he'd rolled his eyes. I nearly forgot how to breathe when the dust cleared and Nick stepped forward, peering curiously around him. He hadn't changed even though I had expected him too. Sam squeezed my hand once and slipped back into the house. I forced my legs to move toward him slowly. I saw the moment he spotted me; he stiffened slightly and then was moving fast toward me. But once we were standing in front of each other we stopped and stared into each other's face. Suddenly, I didn't know how to address my friend and settled for sticking my hand out in a welcome. Nick stared down at my offered hand silently and dispassionately and I started to lower it back to my side.

"Fuck it!" Nick hissed suddenly.

I wasn't prepared for him to throw his arms around my shoulders and drag me against his chest. But I accepted it as part of the forgiveness I craved and returned his embrace.

"You stupid son of a bitch. Don't ever do that to me again, understand?"

"Yeah. I'm so sorry."

"You've got absolutely no idea what you've done have you? To me and Tessa?"

Guiltily I shook my head and wrenched myself away from him, prepared for screams and a lecture. But Nick only tapped my chin until I looked back up at him. He was crying again and my gut screamed in sympathy.

How many times had I brought grown men to tears because I hadn't thought?

"What did I do, Nicky?"

Nick reached up and touched my hair softly; I couldn't find it in myself to tell him to stop.

"You died."

"I'm sorry."

"What happened. That body was found and the Police said it was you. They got it wrong?"

I scuffled my feet and bobbed my head before answering with a sullen. "I guess so. They're only human after all."

"Where did you go? You weren't in the Hospital."

"No, I ran away again. My Uncle Bobby found me in a Motel."

"Uncle Bobby? Haven't met him yet."

I quirked a smile. "You will. This is his house...Are you staying?"

"For a little while. Tessa doesn't know I'm here and I really don't want her to worry."

"How is she?"

"How do you think Dean? To her you're still dead." He snapped.

"You didn't tell her about the phone call?"

"No I needed to be sure before I got her hopes up."

"I'm alive. Honest."

"I can see that." He looked over my shoulder and waved at someone. I span around to see Sam standing on the porch watching us with thinly concealed excitement. "He looks happy. So do you."

"I am happy. I think he is too."

Nick smiled. "I'm glad."

"Come and meet everyone...again..."

Sam was practically vibrating by the time Nick and I approached him. He had no hang ups about affection and happily threw his arms around Nick. Nick laughed and patted the top of his head; Sam didn't even flick his hand off.

"Heya Sam. Glad we get to meet again under better circumstances."

"It's fantastic, isn't it? I told you he couldn't be dead! Dean isn't allowed to die without telling me first."

"Well that's a relief." Nick chuckled. "I'm thrilled you were right."

Dad was suddenly standing next to me and for once smiling warmly at my friend. "Nick."

"John."

A moment of tense silent.

"Thank you." Dad sounded so relieved that I turned to him.

"For everything."

"Oh." Nick still looked confused. "You're welcome I guess."

They clasped hands in front of my chest and both grinned at me. In their eyes was a bond forged over a deep despair for me and a dawning hope because I was standing next to them breathing. Bobby's footfalls were confident as he marched toward us and stopped behind Dad. Nick turned to him with a raised eyebrow and confusion.

"You must be Nick." Bobby acknowledged.

"Yeah. You Uncle Bobby?"

"Just Bobby, boy."

"Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise. Listen, thanks for finding Dean and all that."

"Please stop thanking me. I'm glad I did it. Dean's an awesome kid and a great body guard."

Sam laughed. "Don't we know it?"

I beat my fist against his arm. "Bitch!"

.

.

.

_TWO_


	29. Whispers in the night

Hello? Anyone still out there? I'm sorry about the delay but enjoy!

...

A Soldier's Last Stand.

Whispers in the night.

Dean Winchester.

_Fire. Hot raging, burning and twisting into demonic shapes. There's no way out. Something's blocked the window and the doors on fire. I'm going to die. But in the midst of hell, there's someone else with me. Standing quietly, watching me struggle and gasp. He doesn't offer to help and I realise why a moment later. His eyes flash a soulless black as he sneers at me and cackles a laugh. He brandishes my leather jacket tauntingly, pulling it over his shoulders and striking a pose. I snarl and try to grab him but he just steps back with another laugh. But then he falls and the window crashes open. I stagger to my feet, coughing and burnt and make a wild dash for the window. A cloud of smoke slips fluidly over my shoulder and disappears into the night. _

"_Help me."_

_The quiet, almost inaudible plea nearly stops me in my tracks. I know that voice but I can't place it. Who are you? The man is consumed in the flames already and I can't get to him to save him. He whimpers loudly and thrashes his head weakly._

"_Help me." He begs again._

"_I can't. I'm sorry."_

_He moans, a deep animalistic sound and then he screams. Loud and agonised, searing his pain into my mind forever. A tendril of fire licks at me and I throw myself out of the window and away from it. _

_Nick's Diner is burning. People are screaming and crying. In the distance, I see Nick and Tessa, calling and wailing. Tessa's in her night dress, the white material fluttering in the breeze, her hair's a knotted mess. Nick's clad only in his plaid pyjama pants, his arms wrapped around his bare torso. He's oddly calm as he watches his life's work crumble. But he's looking for something in the blaze; his eyes are leaping and waiting for something. I think he's waiting for me and he's growing more distressed with every minute. But I can't go to them. I just let a man die a death that should have been mine. I turn away from them, condemned and hurt, and melt into the darkness and confusion of the fire. There was a demon to hunt._

_..._

I will always remember those last few minutes of the fire. The pain, despair that morphed into a relief to be alive and a terrible heavy guilt that was thick in my gut. I can't really excuse what I did, leaving that man to die. It wasn't his fault the demon got to him but I still did nothing to save him. I suppose that makes me a murderer or maybe something worse than that. I don't really know. And I really don't want to ask in case they felt the same.

Seeing Nick again had erased some of the lingering sadness and hopelessness that night had left in me. He reminded me that I had done some things right these last few months. I had saved him and Tessa. I had missed him. I missed Tessa.

"When can I see Tessa, Nick?" I questioned.

Nick glanced up from his phone and smiled softly. "Later buddy. She's sick so maybe in a few days."

I frowned and gathered my knees underneath me. "Since when?"

"She called me this morning and said she felt bad. She doesn't know about you yet. I'll tell her when she's better."

Accepting his words, I shrugged and settled back down to watch an old horror movie on the television. Sam had a huge science text book resting crookedly on his lap, his eyes lapping up every complicated word on the page.

"What are you going to do now, Nicky?" He questioned suddenly. "You don't have a business anymore."

Guilt tugged at me and I glanced timidly up at Nick. I expected him to be angry and bitter over losing everything but he wasn't. He smiled and pushed his phone back into his pocket.

"Insurance has it covered. I'll have enough money to start up another Diner."

"You should call it 'Dean's'." Sam supplied.

I laughed. "Yeah!"

Nick chuckled and shook his head. "I'll defiantly think about it. But it'll be in the better half of town."

"Well then, you'll never see me there." I teased.

"Ah! You'll get a discount, Hot Shot." Nick promised.

"Score!" I cheered.

I loved the laughter of my friend and my brother. Things weren't healed, not completely. The kind man Sam called Dad was still a stranger to me and there was still tension between them but I thought maybe...I was wise enough not to run away. I thought, maybe I could be strong enough to stay.

...

"What really happened in The Diner, Dean?" Nick questioned.

I looked up from the Impala's engine and glanced at my friend. He met my gaze and held it, determination and something else warring in his eyes.

"I don't remember." I shrugged.

"Yes you do."

I met his eyes from under the hood and felt my defences rise inside my mind and something snap locked. I wouldn't tell him what I had to do to survive, how could a man like Nick understand my world? It wasn't his world. Even now as he hovered on the edge of it, he didn't know. I would fight anything that tried to take that security from him. I wouldn't tell him. I knew it and one look at Nick's bright eyes showed me he knew the same.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, so drop it."

"Try me." He taunted.

"I said drop it!" I snapped and turned away from him.

The silence between us seemed to stretch out endlessly and I fiddled with a wrench absentmindedly for a moment. Nick sighed loudly and suddenly I felt the weight of his hand on the small of my back. I stilled but couldn't make myself turn to him.

"I'm sorry, kid. I'm just trying to understand what happened. How you survived?"

"The window broke. So I got out. There isn't anything else to say."

"But the body? Who's was it? Did you invite anyone over that night?"

I snapped around to face him and dislodged his hand violently. Nick took a hasty step back and I prowled to the workbench in the corner of the garage.

"I don't know anyone in AutumnDale beside you and Tessa." I reminded sulkily. "Not counting Zack and his goons. What happened to them?"

I was half joking and not really looking for a response, my attention already captured by a bolt on the table. But Nick's quiet, pain filled voice stopped me.

"Zack's dead." He announced.

I whirled around with a manically beating heart and wide eyes. "What?"

Nick licked his lips and pressed the tips of his fingers together. A secret. Nick had a secret. I recognised that look; I had seen it on my face more times that I could bare to remember.

"He confessed to setting the Diner on fire but somehow...he got burnt. He died in the hospital."

"I...I..."

To my shock, Nick crashed to his knees at my feet and buried his face into his hands. There was a gentle quiver to his shoulders and he gasped loudly.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He wept.

"Nicky?"

The blonde man looked up at me and I didn't understand the heartache or guilt in his eyes. Tears crystallized on his lashes and dripped down his cheeks. I stared down at him in bewilderment and reached out to touch his shoulders briefly.

"This is all my fault."

"How?"

How could this mess be his fault? He wasn't the demon, wasn't the faceless man I killed.

"I knew Zack. He used to be my best friend and I...I walked away from him. H-He was so angry with me but I didn't think he'd do anything. But then he saw you and he always had a rotten temper so I guess his got jealous. And he tried to kill you. I'm sorry."

I stilled and couldn't take my eyes away from the man confessing his deepest secrets to me. My first instinct was to be angry, I had been caught in a fight that wasn't my own and it had nearly killed me. But then I realised that it wasn't Nick's fault. Zack was a monster, human or not and something I doubt Nick could have controlled. I knelt down before Nick and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. Nick clutched at me and drew me tighter against his chest.

"It's OK, Nicky. It wasn't your fault. Zack was just messed up. I would say I'm sorry he's dead but I'm not sorry."

Nick let out a watery laugh and patted my head gently. "Yeah I'm not surprised somehow."

"You can't control what he did. I don't blame you but you need to make better friends. Like me!"

"You got that right."

...

"Did you know it was Zack, Dad? He started the fire." I questioned later that night when everyone else was safe in bed. Nick asleep on my bedroom floor.

Dad turned to me and nodded once. "Yeah, I knew. I went to see him before he died."

"He was a Demon, wasn't he?"

"Probably for a few months."

"The entire time I was fighting with him, he was really a demon? No wonder I couldn't win. Why is he dead then?"

Dad shrugged. "I guess the demon got tired of him."

Zack wasn't the man in the fire. The man was to small and his voice to high. Who was he?

"Zack told us that something was wrong. That the demon recognised you and that it was angry." Dad confided.

"So I've pissed off a Demon, what's new?"

"Just be careful, Dean. We don't know anything about this demon or where it is."

"I know."

Sometimes, I thought I could almost feel dead eyes on me, enraged and plotting. Maybe I'm still on edge and imagining make believe eyes or maybe...the clock is running out for real this time...

...

"I can't do this anymore. I won't!"

"You will. Remember what will happen if you disobey me. I will hurt her."

"No! Please, don't! I'll listen."

"Good boy. Now, tell me, where is the hunter?"

...

Three.


End file.
